With a Thousand Sweet Kisses
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Assorted pairing drabbles.:: Currently: Hermione finds a second chance.
1. Serenity (OrionMinerva)

_Pokemon Challenge: OrionMinerva, noble, "If you're waiting for a miracle, you're gonna be waiting for a while.", white_

 _Word Count: 426_

* * *

 _A/N: Now that Mysterious Ways is done, have a new pairing collection for all the random shippy drabbles I can't fit elsewhere._

 _To my loyal guest: I hope you'll be here for this one. I promise there will be at least one Drastoria_

* * *

Sometimes Orion wonders why he bothers with this little rebellion. Nothing good can come from loving Minerva McGonagall, but it doesn't stop him. He continues to live for their stolen moments together, tucked away and hidden from prying, judgemental eyes.

It's almost cruel. He is burdened by his family's expectations. The noble House of Black has already planned his future for him, right down to his marriage to Walburga once he leaves Hogwarts. He knows he does not have time for romantic notions, that he should abandon hope and stop clinging to his dream of choosing his partner and living a happy life.

"If you're waiting for a miracle, you're going to be waiting for a while," he mutters, shaking his head.

Minerva looks up at him, brows raised. "What was that?"

Cygnus feels the heat stain his cheeks. He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck, clearing his throat. He hadn't even realized he'd spoken aloud. "Er… I just mean, well… Wishful thinking."

She straightens her posture, running her fingers over the creases of her white button up shirt before adjusting the gold and crimson tie at her throat. "And what were you wishing for?" she asks softly, inching closer.

He closes his eyes, inhaling sharply when her fingertips ghost over his wrist. For the first time in his life, he curses his family and their traditions. Why can't he come from a family where they wouldn't care about the blood status of the woman he _chooses_ to love?

Really, he supposes he could fulfill his wish. He could run away and have Minerva by his side for rest of his life. But he knows it would not be that easy. He would be disowned and unable to provide a life for his beloved. Perhaps Minerva doesn't care about those things, but he does.

"Orion?"

He shakes his head. His thoughts have run wild and gotten away from him. There is still time for him and Minerva here, and thinking about the future and things he cannot change will only sully the otherwise precious moments he has left with her.

"Unimportant," he murmurs, pulling her close. His fingers toy with the pins in her hair, pulling them from their place so that her dark locks cascade down her back. "All that matters is this moment."

Minerva looks as though she wants to protest; she seems to settle for a shrug before wrapping her slender arms around him, her lips finding his.

Their time is limited, but Orion will cherish each and every one.


	2. Bread Chats (TeddyRoxanne)

_Character Appreciation: Next Gen_

 _Showtime, Valjean's Confession: bread_

 _Buttons: melodic_

 _Chocolate Frogs, Patrick Delaney-Podmore: reference the Headless Hunt in your story_

 _Film Festival: park_

 _For Abby_

 _Word Count: 354_

* * *

Roxanne isn't surprised to find him by the lake, a loaf of bread in hand. Whenever their families do their annual summer picnic in the park, Teddy always slips away from the group and ends up near the water.

She watches him quietly, admiring the way the sun radiates his turquoise hair and makes it look like jewels in the light. A grin tugs at her lips, and she steps forward. "You know, bread is actually really bad for ducks," she tells him.

Teddy turns. A faint, dusty pink stains his cheeks, and he looks almost guilty and apologetic as he holds up the bit of bread he'd torn from loaf. "What am I supposed to do with this then?" he asks with a melodic laugh that makes Roxanne's heart flutter.

With a grin, she moves closer, opening her mouth wide and gesturing toward it. Teddy picks up on it and tears off a tiny piece of bread before tossing it her way. Roxanne catches it easily, chewing it and swallowing.

"Gold star," he says, landing another piece of bread in her mouth.

Roxanne chuckles and closes the distance between them. Teddy sets the loaf of bread in his bag. "What are you doing out here?" he asks.

She shrugs and wraps an arm around him. "Contemplating joining the Headless Hunt," she jokes, butterflies erupting within her stomach when he leans in and rests his head against her shoulder. "I think it would be wicked to just throw my head at people I don't like."

Teddy snorts, pulling away and regarding her with clear amusement. "I think it would be traumatizing," he says with a roll of his eyes.

Roxanne smirks. "Not for me."

"You know you would have to be beheaded to join the Headless Hunt, right?"

"What?" She clutches at her chest in faux shock. "I have to be headless to join the _Headless_ Hunt?"

"Smartass," he mutters.

With a chuckle, she stands on her tiptoes, lips slightly pursed. "You love me."

Teddy wraps his arms around her, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to her lips. "Merlin only knows why," he teases.


	3. Take a Chance (NevilleHermione)

_Love in Motion: NevilleHermione_

 _Word Count: 348_

* * *

A smile pulls at her lips as she watches Harry and Ginny share their first dance as husband and wife. It's such a beautiful occasion, but she can't feel the faintest hint of sadness. Ron and Lavender will be celebrating their first wedding anniversary in two weeks; Harry and Ginny are officially newlyweds.

And then there's Hermione, the girl with so much love to give, if only she wasn't married to her work. Harry and Ron have tried several unsuccessful matchmaking attempts, but it never works. In the end, she doesn't have time to get to know some new person and try again, hoping this one will be different this time.

Other couples file onto the dancefloor, smiling at one another as they spin and twirl.

She isn't jealous. Really, she's not. Hermione doesn't actually mind being alone, but it gets so lonely sometimes.

"Remember in fourth year, I asked you to the Yule Ball?"

Neville's voice draws her out of her thoughts. Hermione glances at him, offering him a small smile.

"You were the most beautiful girl there that night," he adds. "But that hasn't changed."

Hermione chuckles softly, shaking her head. "Fairly sure that's supposed to be the bride," she points out.

Neville offers her a sheepish, almost apologetic grin, a dusty pink staining his cheeks. He holds out his hand. "Dance with me?"

It's strange, really. Neville has always been one of the sweetest people she's had the joy of knowing, but she's never considered him someone to date. Then again, while at school, she hadn't had many opportunities to date at all. Now, it's almost like seeing him in a different light. The awkward, clumsy, forgetful boy is gone. In his place stands a man who has been through hell but refused to be broken by it.

Maybe she doesn't have to be lonely. Maybe she can take a chance on a missed opportunity. Maybe something can grow from it.

She takes his hand, and something inside her stomach seems to tickle and flutter. It's a leap of faith, but she's willing to try.


	4. Facing Fear (AngelinaKatie)

_Love in Motion: AngelinaKatie_

 _Showtime, Death of Gavroche: fear_

 _Buttons: Lee Jordan_

 _Word Count: 315_

* * *

Katie takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the way fear makes her whole body tremble. Angelina's hand rests on her shoulder; somehow, she is strong and steady, and Katie hopes that she can borrow her lover's nerve. Merlin knows they're going to need it tonight.

The protective ward shimmers and ripple as spell after spell bombard it, trying to weaken it. It's only a matter of time before the protection spell wears off and all hell breaks loose.

Katie slides her hand into Angelina's, giving it a gentle squeeze. She presses a kiss to her girlfriend's knuckles, breathing in a shaky breath. "We're going to be okay, aren't we?"

Angelina doesn't answer. For all her confidence, she is not cruel. She will not comfort Katie with a promise she cannot keep. In place of a reassurance, she pulls Katie closer, wrapping her arms around her. Their lips meet, and Katie finds a whole new reason to tremble.

Fear seems to burrow its way into her bones. Katie can feel her stomach twisting into knots.

There is no promise that they will make it through this alive. By morning, she could lose everything. This realization only makes her cling tighter to her girlfriend, so afraid to let go.

Behind her, someone clears their throat. Even when Katie and Angelina break apart, their hands are still clasped tightly together, a reminder that even the darkest days cannot separate them.

Lee offers them an apologetic smile. "Sorry to interrupt," he mutters before gesturing at the barrier above them. It's like watching acid eating away at something. "But it's almost time."

Katie nods before glancing at her girlfriend. Angelina offers her a smile before kissing Katie's forehead.

"I love you."

"I love you," Katie echoes.

And her hands still tremble as they follow Lee, but she feels like maybe she can do anything with Angelina by her side.


	5. Failure (EdgarFabian)

_Character Appreciation: Edgar Bones_

 _Showtime, Suddenly: "I'm so afraid of failing you"_

 _Word Count: 396_

* * *

" _What are you thinking about?" Fabian asks, his thin fingers pushing gently through Edgar's dark red hair._

 _Edgar chuckles, but he's all too aware of how hollow it sounds. "What makes you so sure I'm thinking about anything at all?"_

 _His lover sits up and leans close. His warm breath washes over Edgar, tickling his skin. Edgar shivers._

" _You've got that faraway look," Fabian answers. "Like you're off in outer space or something. You only ever get that look whenever you're deep in thought. So, what is it?"_

 _Edgar considers lying; it should be easy enough to come up with a believable tale. Still, Fabian knows him too well. He would see through Edgar in a heartbeat._

 _He offers Fabian a small, shaky smile. "I'm so afraid of failing you."_

 _For several moments, there is only silence between them. Edgar swallows dryly, his fingers drumming impatiently on the arm of his chair._

 _It isn't easy to admit feelings, especially during such uncertain times. War is hardly the place for romance, but here there are. Part of Edgar wonders if it would be kinder to end things where they are and move along. Maybe there will be hope for them whenever the war is finally over._

 _But he knows it won't happen. Fabian is like an addiction he can't break._

 _Finally, Fabian breaks the silence with a sigh. "You could never fail me," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around Edgar and pulling him close. "I love you."_

 _Edgar tries to smile, but the tug of his lips feels so wrong. "I love you too."_

* * *

His heart feels as though it's being ripped to shreds as he stands over the matching headstones. Edgar wipes a tear from his eye, sniffling. "I failed you," he whispers. "I should have been there to protect you."

It's been a week since he had watched them lay Fabian and Gideon in the ground. In that week, he's felt the guilt slowly consume him.

He had tried so hard to keep Fabian safe. In the end, his efforts had been in vain.

Fabian wouldn't want him to blame himself; he knows that his lover would hold him close and whisper over and over that it isn't his fault.

But Fabian isn't here, and Edgar can only hear his own accusatory voice in his head.

 _Should have done more._

 _Could have saved him._

 _Failure._


	6. Happy Thoughts (SeverusLucius)

_Character Appreciation: "Is it true you can produce a Patronus?"_

 _Showtime, Fantine's Arrest: pride_

 _Love in Motion: SeverusLucius_

 _Word Count: 528_

* * *

"Is it true you can produce a Patronus?"

Severus glances up at the voice, surprised to find Lucius in his living room. It has been a long time since the two of them have been alone together, and he hates that the years have done nothing to lessen his desire. "I can," he confirms, holding his arms over his chest. "Why?"

The older man hesitates. A pale pink stains his cheeks, and Severus nearly laughs. Lucius Malfoy is as arrogant as he is handsome. Seeing him get flustered is ridiculously enjoyable.

"I… Can you teach me?"

Even better. Not only is Lucius flustered, he's resorted to asking for help. Severus glances at the calendar, reminding himself to mark this as a very special day.

…

" _Expecto Patronum!"_

Nothing happens, not even a wisp of silver. Lucius scowls. "This is ridiculous," he mutters bitterly.

"Have you considered using a different memory?" Severus asks.

"What on earth could be happier than my wedding day?"

Severus chokes back a laugh. Everyone knows Lucius and Narcissa don't love one another. Her eyes always stray to her sister's husband. And Lucius… Lucius is made of ice and doesn't give a damn about anyone but himself. Their union had hardly been a warm event.

"Try another memory," Severus instructs, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Lucius rolls his eyes before focusing. His handsome features scrunch together, and he seems to lose himself for a moment. A smile tugs at his lips, and he shivers with what can only be described as delight. " _Expecto Patronum!_ "

It isn't perfect or corporeal, but it's there. A silver mist spills from the tip of Lucius' wand, forming a sort of shield around him. He lets out a triumphant cry. Even Severus can't deny the sense of pride he feels. Maybe he truly does have a calling for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

…

"What memory did you use?" Severus asks as he pours two glasses of Scotch.

Lucius accepts his glass with a smirk. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"As it happens, I would. That's the way questions work, Lucius."

The blond snorts and shakes his head before sipping the amber liquid. He pulls the glass away from his lips, letting out a satisfied sigh. "You. Our last night together," he admits. "It was the last time I felt truly happy, Severus."

Severus remains silent, sipping his Scotch. The admission makes him shiver, but he forces himself to keep his features composed. Lucius is a married man, and Severus' desires have no place here.

Lucius downs the last of his drink in one quick gulp and sets the glass aside before climbing to his feet and closing the distance between them. Severus' glass slips from his hand, the contents spilling onto the carpet. He doesn't care about the mess. It's hard to care about anything at all when Lucius is this close.

"I still want you."

Severus knows he should refuse. Even if he wants Lucius, it's so very wrong.

And yet, he doesn't give a damn.

Lucius' fingers tangle in Severus' hair. Severus feels his restraint slipping.

He gives in, and everything seems to fall away.


	7. Somehow (BillFleur)

_Character Appreciation: Bill Weasley_

 _Showtime, Drink With Me: a pub_

 _Word Count: 315_

* * *

Bill wishes the Three Broomsticks wasn't so crowded, but he isn't surprised. The war has only been over for an hour or so. Everyone has flocked to the nearest pub. The Hog's Head had been damn near overflowing and almost standing room only; this one isn't much better, but he finds an empty table in the corner and orders something that isn't quite strong enough to take the pain away.

"Mind if I sit 'ere?" Fleur smiles at him as she sits across from him, taking her husband's hand.

"I couldn't stay there," he murmurs. "I needed…"

Bill trails off, shaking his head. He doesn't quite know _what_ he needs, but he knows that staying in the castle, staring at his brother's dead body had been too much.

Fleur pulls his hand to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss to each knuckle. Bill closes his eyes, and a faint small almost breaks. He can almost pretend that it's just another day, that they're just two lovers living in a world of blissful romance.

But he can still hear the sobs, and it's a painful reminder that today is different, that the world has changed forever.

He stares downs at his glass before downing the contents quickly.

"Your family understands," Fleur assures him. "So do I."

It's enough to make him break. With a heavy sigh, Bill slumps forward, resting his head against the table. Fleur's hands are gentle as they rest upon his shoulder.

"I love you," she says.

And he wants it to be enough. He wants to reverse time and go back to the days where those words could fix anything.

Hesitantly, he looks up, exhaling deeply. "I love you too."

"We will figure 'zis out. Together."

Her words don't take the pain away or make things easier to endure. But they remind him that there's hope.

Maybe he can get through this.


	8. Midnight Worries (HannahSusan)

_Character Appreciation: Leaky Cauldron_

 _Showtime, Who Am I?: making a difficult choice_

 _Word Count: 562_

* * *

"Working late, love," Susan notes when she enters the Leaky Cauldron just after midnight.

Hannah offers her a tired smile from behind the bar. "You're one to talk."

Susan grins and takes a seat. "Yes, well, my job does that sometimes. You, on the other hand, usually have someone else working this late."

Ordinarily, Susan will come in from work to find Mark or Nadine beaming at her. They'll always prepare her hot chocolate without waiting for her to order. She'll accept it before heading up to the room she and Hannah share over the little pub.

So it's most unusual to see Hannah down so late. Even if she still prepares Susan's drink, it still feels wrong.

"I've been thinking," Hannah says, setting the hot chocolate in front of Susan.

"Three words every girl wants to hear." Though Susan says it as a joke, her voice still cracks. She and Hannah have been dating for nearly a decade. Everything is fine. At least, she thinks it is, hopes it is.

Hannah doesn't seem to notice her nervousness. With a wave of her wand, she summons a bottle of wine and quickly pours herself a glass. Susan waits, growing impatient but too worried to press for details.

After a stretch of silence that feels like an eternity, Hannah finally breaks the silence. "I sort of want to study to become a Healer."

The relief is so strong that Susan almost laughs. She visibly relaxes, lifting her mug and taking a sip of the warm, sweet liquid. "I think it's brilliant. You're perfect for it."

"But I'd have to give this place up."

"Ah."

Susan can see why she'd be torn. This pub has always meant so much to Hannah. She can still remember how ecstatic her girlfriend had been when Tom had passed it on to her. Giving it up is hard to imagine; the Leaky Cauldron has become such a permanent fixture in her life.

"Ah?" Hannah echoes with a laugh. "Very sage advice."

"Hush." Susan sets her mug down, playfully glaring at Hannah. "It's late, and I'm exhausted."

Hannah leans across the bar, pressing a gentle kiss to Susan's forehead. "Excuses, excuses."

Susan's lips twitch, threatening to form a smile. Somehow, she keeps her expression neutral. "You don't have to make a choice yet, right?" she asks. "You have time to figure things out."

Hannah groans. It's clearly not the suggestion she had been hoping for. "I don't _have_ to," she confirms, "but I _want_ to."

Susan finishes the last sip of her drink before climbing to her feet. "Come on. Bed. A good night's sleep will help clear your head."

Her girlfriend shakes her head. "I'm working."

Susan shrugs and gestures around the empty pub. By now, she knows that few people venture into the Leaky Cauldron this late. Most likely, there won't be any new faces around until a little after six, when Ernie will be there for his regular shift. "Call it a night," she insists, leaning over the counter and kissing the top of her girlfriend's head.

"Fine." Hannah sounds almost grudging, but the relieved smile on her lips tells Susan that she doesn't really mind. With a quick flick of her wand, she casts a spell that causes everything to tidy up and arrange itself as it's meant to be. "You're right. Sleeping might help."


	9. By Your Side (Lucissa)

_Character Appreciation: loyal_

 _Showtime, I Dreamed a Dream: love is blind_

 _Pokemon, Lucius: spirit, quill, breeze_

 _Word Count: 402_

* * *

The breeze whips her blonde hair against her face, but Narcissa stands tall, waiting. She has been waiting for Lucius to return for months, and there has finally been whispers of a great escape.

Sometimes, she wonders if she should have stayed at all. Even though she has been raised with beliefs about blood purity, she has never been quite as fanatical as Lucius. If she's honest, Narcissa doesn't particularly care about blood status, but she would never dare admit that aloud, not after Andromeda.

Lucius' arrest should have made it easy to leave. If anything, it had made it harder. Even if Draco hadn't been forced to follow his father's footsteps, Narcissa couldn't have left. By now, her own life has become some tangled with her husband's that she isn't sure how to escape this web.

And yet, deep down inside, she knows she wouldn't have left. Love is blind, and it has made it so easy for her to become complacent, for her to overlook his flaws and accept him so completely. She could never stray, even if she wanted to.

Footsteps draw her out of her thoughts. Lucius approaches her, and her heart breaks. Azkaban has not been kind to him. His blond hair is matter and thinning. His face, once handsome and angular, is gaunt, and dark circles rim his eyes. A smile tugs at his chapped lips, and he winces when they crack and bleed from the effort.

"Cissa," he croaks. "You stayed."

"Of course," she says holding him close and trying not to notice how she can feel his bones through his robe. "I'm your wife. Let's get you a bath drawn up."

She leads him inside, blinking back tears. Her husband is so quiet, so small. It does not suit the man she had fallen love with, the man with such a larger than life personality. Azkaban has crushed his spirit. Narcissa wonders if there's any hope of restoring it.

Lucius pauses here and there, looking at everything as though it's his first time to see it. He picks up a quill, scowling as he fumbles with it. "I don't know how I'll get my life back," he confesses.

Narcissa moves to his side, taking him gently by the hands. "We'll figure it out," she assures him.

His shaky palm rests against her cheek, and he kisses her forehead. "You'll stay with me?"

"Of course."


	10. Domestic Life (BlaiseTheo)

_Holmes Mystery: scent_

 _Chocolate Frogs, Ignatia Wildsmith: Use the Floo Network in your story_

 _Buttons: BlaiseTheo._

 _Word Count: 423_

* * *

For several moments, there is only bliss when Blaise wakes. The bed and blankets are still so warm and inviting, and he wants nothing more than to melt into them and sleep forever. All he needs is Theo beside him again, but the scent of bacon that fills the small cottage easily explains his boyfriend's absence.

Blaise smiles to himself and rolls over. This bliss quickly fades and is replaced by panic when he sees the time. He's late for work. Well, technically not late, but he won't be able to go back to his place to change clothes.

He takes several deep breaths. No one will be able to tell where he's coming from. When he Floos himself to the Ministry, he'll just appear in a grate and move along. Besides, it isn't as though he and Theo are doing anything wrong. The world is progressing; dating someone of the same sex is only considered strange by traditional families. No one at the Ministry would care.

Blaise climbs out of bed. His clothes from the day before are strewn across the room. With a quick wave of his wand, he casts a spell to remove the creases from the fabric. If he can't change into a fresh outfit, he can at least make himself look as presentable as possible. Satisfied, he pulls the clothes on and hurries out.

Theo is in the dining room, piling food onto the plates. Blaise watches, smiling to himself. He never imagined that he would enjoy the domestic life. His mother scared him and made him believe that love is for the weak. Theo, however, has shown him a whole new world, and he loves it.

"You couldn't have started earlier?" Blaise teases, plucking a strip of bacon from his plate and popping it into his mouth with a content moan. "So good. But if I sit and eat, I'll be late."

"Not my fault you looked too cute to wake," Theo counters, kissing Blaise's cheek before casting a quick spell to wrap his plate. "Eat it at your desk."

Blaise grins. "You're the best."

His boyfriend kisses him again. "I know."

Blaise makes his way to the fireplace, grabbing a pinch of Floo Powder and tossing it in as he calls out his destination. With one last glance at Theo, he disappears. Once, he had dreamt only of working, of bettering himself and always having more. Now, he despises going to work because he knows he has to leave Theo behind, if only for a moment.


	11. Stay (BenjyAmelia)

_Love in Motion: BenjyAmelia_

 _Word Count: 377_

* * *

"Do you have to go?" Amelia hates the hint of a whine that laces her words. It makes her feel so needy, clingy, as though the strong, independent woman she is has faced away.

Benjy stretches, popping his back before focusing his attention on pulling his socks on. "Afraid so," he answers. "The Order…"

She's grateful that he trails off. Even if she knows why the Order exists and all the good that it does, she can't help but to resent it. Her brother has shown up multiple times, injured from his little missions. Then there are days like this when it calls her lover away. How can she not be bitter?

"Hey." Benjy scoots back on the bed until he reaches her. His hand rests on her thigh, fingers gently caressing her skin. "Don't look so sad. I'll be back. I pr—"

"Don't," she interrupts, shaking her head. "You can't make promises during a war."

He offers her a smile, but it isn't the smile she loves. It's like a poor copy of that smile; it doesn't reach his eyes. "I'm sorry," he says, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her lips.

Amelia wraps her arms around him, holding tightly. She wishes it could be enough, that she could somehow make him stay. In the end though, that is not the Benjy way. He is a Gryffindor through and through—too bloody noble for his own good. Of course he's going to go out there and be a champion for good.

"I'll do my best to be here when you wake," he says. "I'll even bring you some coffee and those pastries you like."

Almost grudgingly, Amelia lets go. "I wish you didn't have to leave."

Benjy's lips twitch, and he almost smiles. "I know," he says, pushing his fingers lovingly through her auburn hair.

With that, he climbs out of bed, smoothing his hands over his shirt. Benjy offers an apologetic smile before disappearing.

Amelia wants to hate him for it. There's a part of her that screams how unfair it is. But that's the thing, really. War isn't fair, and all she can do is just hold on and wait for the world to change. At least she knows that Benjy is worth it.


	12. Snow Angel (DaphnePansy)

_Character Appreciation: Pansy Parkinson_

 _Disney: "Do you want to build a snowman?"_

 _Book Club (Scarlett): purple, dress, clue_

 _Buttons: scarf_

 _Em's Emporium: Write a fanon pairing_

 _Hot Air Balloon: scarf_

 _Holmes Mystery: Hogsmeade_

 _Days, National Kissing Day: Write about someone being kissed_

 _Flowers, foxglove: heart_

 _Insane House: 601 words_

* * *

 _Fairy, winter fairy: snow_

 _601 words_

Daphne can't but smile to herself. "Where are we going?" she asks. "Can I at least have a clue?"

Pansy keeps her hands over Daphne's eyes. It's almost funny. Daphne has always hated surprises, but she doesn't mind when it's her girlfriend. She has never trusted someone so completely, but she knows that Pansy is worth it, that Pansy will look out for her.

"Do you remember our first date?" Pansy asks.

Daphne's smile broadens. "How can I forget?"

They come to a stop, and Daphne nearly slips on an icy patch. Pansy is quick to steady her, her hands no longer obscuring Daphne's vision.

The view is breathtaking and just as she remembers it. Hogsmeade is alive behind them. People walk through the snow, laughing and chatting as they venture from shop to shop. But this little snowy meadow, still part of the village but so often overlooked, is quiet and peaceful.

"Do you wanna build a snowman?" Pansy asks, picking at a stray thread of her purple jumper. "Or maybe we can make snow angels."

Daphne bounces eagerly in place, lips twisting into a broad grin. Her dress slaps gently against her body from the movement. "I feel like a child again," she says, her voice squeaky from her giddiness.

Pansy moves closer, the thick layer of snow crunching beneath her boots. Her fingertips brush gently over Daphne's cheek, causing Daphne's her to shiver from more than just the icy air. "That's why I love you," Pansy says softly. "You never lost that childlike wonder. That saved me, you know."

Daphne nods. Of course she remembers. After the war, Pansy had been bad off. As Slytherins, they're used to people judging them, but Pansy had been essentially shunned. Daphne had been worried that she would lose the girl she loved.

It had taken her nearly a year, but Daphne had been persistent. She had found beauty in everything and tried to get Pansy to see it too. Slowly, her girlfriend had come around. Maybe Pansy hadn't gained Daphne's joy and optimism, but she had become softer until all the pain and anger had melted away.

With a grin, Daphne smooths out the creases in her dress, still bouncing eagerly. "Snowball fight?" she suggests, her mind racing as she thinks of the hundreds of things she could do in the snow now.

"Wait." Pansy's long fingers curl around Daphne's wrist, and she pulls her closer. "There's something I have to do first."

Before Daphne can ask, Pansy presses a kiss to her lips. Her free hand rests against the back of Daphne's hair, her finger threading in dark curls.

It still amazes her how kisses like this never fail to take her breath away. They've been together for four years, but she still feels that same rush of excitement that she had felt when they were were just silly schoolgirls falling in love.

"Happy anniversary," Pansy whispers when they finally separate. A soft smile plays at her thin lips. "For the past several years, you've been the best thing in my life."

Daphne feels her heart flutter at that, and butterflies seem to tickle her insides. It no longer matters that they are in the most perfect spot or that she has so many things she could do in the snow. All she cares about is that she is lucky enough to have the most perfect girlfriend in the world. She throws her arms around Pansy, kissing her again, harder now.

"What about your snow angels?" Pansy laughs between kisses.

" _You_ are my snow angel, darling," Daphne tells her, smiling.


	13. New Love in the Library (RonPadma)

_Word Count: 346_

 _Prompts at the end._

* * *

It seems fitting that there's a thunderstorm the morning after the Yule Ball. Somehow, the universe seems to be reflecting Padma's mood.

She tries to tell herself that she's being ridiculous. It isn't as though she actually loved Ron. If anything, she only sort of fancies him. Still, it hurts her to know that he had been so eager to abandon her at the ball. She had been so excited, so eager to dance the night away with him.

A scowl pulls at her lips. She sips her coffee, moving amongst the shelves of the library. All her studying is done, so she doesn't actually need to be here. She's hat always found a certain comfort in being surrounded by books.

"Padma?"

She freezes when she hears his voice. She wants so desperately to be angry at him, but her insides seem to melt. Almost grudgingly, she turns, her heart skipping a beat when she's greeted by Ron's goofy grin. "Yes?"

He hands her a baby pink rose. "I… I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I shouldn't… I mean, I don't know if you had any expectations. Blimey, I may be a right prat for just assuming I broke your heart."

Padma snorts. There's something endearing about his awkwardness. She tugs nervously at her black hair, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Part of her wants to tell him to bugger off. But she can't bring herself to embrace that part of her. She wants to believe that there could be hope for them, that they can somehow grow into something beautiful.

"You won't be flaky like last night?" she asks, brows raising. "You'll actually… You'll be with me?"

Ron nods. "I can do that," he assures her. "I'll be faithful and true. Just watch."

Padma leans in, pressing her lips to his. It's gentle, sweet kiss, barely a touch, but it's filled with forgiveness and hope. "I guess we can try," she says.

And though her voice sounds so calm and collected, she's a mess on the inside, already ready to find her sister to celebrate.

* * *

 _Hot Air Balloon: Padma Patil_

 _Eagle Day: RonPadma, library_

 _Film Festival: kiss and make up_

 _Gobstones, copper (forgiveness) thunderstorm, kissing, coffee_

 _Character Appreciation: faithful_

 _Book Club, Dante: black, heart, rose_

 _Showtime, Raise You Up/Just Be: celebrate_

 _Lo's Lowdown, Chekov: "I can do that!"_


	14. Beachy Birthdays (Drarry)

_For Ana. I love you, honey!_

 _Prompts at the end!_

 _Word Count:422_

* * *

There's something particularly amusing about seeing Draco Malfoy on the beach. Harry tries not to smirk, but he fails miserably.

"Something funny, Potter?"

Harry swaggers closer, his smirk transforming into a grin. He prods his boyfriend's bare chest. "Very," he chuckles. "Nice swim trunks."

A soft pink creeps into Draco's pale cheeks. His slender fingers brush over his shorts—emerald green, in true Slytherin fashion—and scowls, pulling away. "I'm at the beach for your birthday," he grumbles. "I could be home, where I'm not risking burning to a crisp. Stop teasing me and just be happy."

Harry takes Draco's hand, their fingers lacing together. "I am happy, dammit," he laughs shaking his head and leading Draco along the shore. The cool waves crash against the sand, lapping at their bare feet.

It's strange how much time can change things. Some days, he forgets that he and Draco had started out as rivals. He still doesn't understand how destiny has brought them together, how he could fall in love with the man he's meant to hate. He isn't complaining, of course; Harry has spent far too long yearning for a simple life, for some sense of normalcy. He never imagined that Draco Malfoy would give him that peace of mind, but he's happy with it.

"You keep staring at me like I'm some sort of oddity," Draco says, pushing his free hand through his blond hair.

Harry snorts. "Or maybe I'm staring at you like I love you, and you're my favorite thing on the beach."

"Really? Because _that_ is infinitely more interesting." Draco points, and Harry follows his attention.

A strange, almost clear blob is a few steps ahead of them. A beached jellyfish. Given how far inland the tide has carried it, Harry assumes it's dead.

He shrugs. "Fair. A lot more attractive too," he teases.

"Oi!" Draco pulls his hand away and playfully smacks Harry's arm. "Watch it, Potter."

Harry pulls him close, resting his head against Draco's shoulder. "We don't have to spend my birthday on the beach," he says. "I really don't need you to do something special for me. Let's order takeaway then just hibernate or something."

"We do that every day," Draco points out.

"Yeah. And every day with you is special."

Draco considers for moment. Finally, he shrugs, grinning broadly. "A nice curry sounds better than a sunburn," he decides.

And as he and Draco race across the beach, slipping and sliding in the sand, Harry can't think of a better way to spend his birthday.

* * *

 _Gobstones, purple (birthday): "I am happy, dammit.", beach, simple_

 _Balloon: DracoHarry_

 _Eagle, Uric the Oddball: jellyfish, oddity_

 _Faeries, winter: hibernate_

 _Character Appreciation: rival_

 _Showtime, Everybody Say Yeah: destiny_

 _Buttons: Harry Potter_

 _Lo's Lowdown, Gaila: green_


	15. Fruit, Flowers, Faith (DaphneSusan)

_For Ami_

 _Prompts at the end._

 _Word Count: 706_

* * *

Daphne bites the inside of her cheek, trying not to grow frustrated or let the depression sink back into her mind. It's hard to keep her head out of the dark places when there is literally nothing back darkness before her.

"It's okay," Susan soothes, and Daphne feels her soft fingertips caress her forearm. "Don't rush it."

Daphne scowls. It's easy for Susan to say. She had managed to escape the war completely intact. Daphne, on the other hand… She shudders, trying to force the memories away. It doesn't do any good; she can still feel Alecto Carrow pinning her down while Amycus dripped an acidic potion into her eyes whenever she had been discovered as a spy for Dumbledore's Army. She remembers the fear causing her heart to pound violently as her world went dark.

Daphne doesn't even realize she's panicking again until Susan's arms are around her. The touch isn't enough to make her relax, but she no longer feels like she's about to come out of her skin. With a heavy sigh, Daphne leans her head back, resting it against her girlfriend's body. "I'm useless," she grumbles.

"No. You just have to relearn things," Susan says softly.

Daphne frowns when the other girl pulls away. She tips her head, positioning herself so that she can hear better, and she listens to the shuffling. A moment later, Susan pushes something into her hand. "Feel it. Size, texture, shape," she encourages.

Daphne does. "Apple?" she guesses before taking a bite. The fruit is sweet and juicy, and a soft, satisfied moan escapes her lips at the confirmation.

Before Daphne can take another bite, Susan takes the fruit away. A second fruit takes its place. This one is smaller, rounder, and considerably softer. Daphne purses her lips, trying to work out what it could be. She turns it over in her hand, tracing her thumb over the almost rubbery skin.

"I give up."

"Take a bite."

Without hesitation, Daphne bites into it. The texture of the fruit is completely different, but it's just as juicy. "I've not had a plum in ages."

But her happiness doesn't last long. Being able to identify fruit by touch alone is nice and all, but it doesn't help her in the long run. Without her sight, she cannot aim her wand properly. Without that, without her magic… She may as well be a Squib.

"Susan?"

She strains her ear, but she cannot hear her girlfriend's movement nearby. She must have gotten completely lost in her miserable thoughts to not notice Susan had left the room.

Daphne _smells_ it before she hears Susan. _Lavender_. She smiles to herself as the scent grows stronger. "Fruit and flowers?" she muses, a smile tugging the corners of her lips. "Is it my birthday?"

"Lavender isn't just a pretty plant," Susan says. "It eases stress. I thought... I figured you might…" She trails off, clearing her throat.

Daphne climbs to her feet carefully. Feeling blindly, she awkwardly moves closer, following both the scent of the plant and the sound of her girlfriend's steady breathing. It's strange how strong her other senses seem to have grown without her sight.

She reaches out, carefully taking the lavender from Susan and setting the flowers aside. Somewhat clumsily, she turns back to Susan, wrapping her arms around her. It's amazing how she manages to cheer Daphne up. Though her demons are not laid to rest, there's such a relief. Susan is unique like that; only she can make Daphne feel like the world isn't ending.

"I just want to be normal again," Daphne sighs, hating how pitiful she sounds. She is stronger than this, but it's so easy to give into weakness sometimes.

"To be human is to be complex," Susan murmurs, kissing Daphne's nose. You can't avoid a little ugliness, both from within and from without. It's part of life. Bad things happen, and we have to find a way to move past them and come out stronger."

At that, all Daphne can do is hold her closer, kissing her hard. She doesn't know what she did to deserve someone as perfect as Susan, but she's glad for her strength and the sense of normalcy that she provides.

* * *

 _Hot Air Balloon: blind!au_

 _Faeries, Winter: unique_

 _Days, Smile Power Day: cheering someone up_

 _Summer: relax_

 _Flowers, Black Eyed Susan: Susan Bones_

 _Aries: SusanDaphne_

 _Star Chart, Partial Solar Eclipse: set your story in complete darkness_

 _Film Festival: Apple_

 _Character Appreciation: depression_

 _Book Club, Governor Dragna: fear, plum, lavender_

 _Amber's Attic, Pinocchio: Write about someone who wants to be normal_

 _Lo's Lowdown: "To be human is to be complex. You cannot avoid a little ugliness, both from within and from without."_


	16. Impossible Girl (DeanLuna)

_Word Count: 654_

* * *

Somehow, Dean isn't surprised to find Luna outside at half past midnight. What does surprise him is how beautiful she looks, bathed in the moonlight, all messy hair and pale skin that seems to glow.

"Can't sleep either?" he asks, tucking his pencil behind his ear and holding up his notebook as thought to emphasize that his mind is too restless to give in to dreams.

Luna turns. Her eyes are wide, and Dean doesn't know if it's her natural expression or if he's caught her off guard. Whatever it is, she quickly relaxes into a sparkling smile. "I don't like sleeping very much," she answers with a shrug of her slender shoulders. "The night is too alive. Look."

She points, and Dean follows. In the distance, over the sea, he sees a flash lightning split open the sky. A faint rumble of thunder follows. She's right. On the surface, there's nothing particularly special about a storm at sea. But there's something about it happening in the night that makes it feel extraordinary.

"That's it, then? You don't…" He clears his throat, tugging awkwardly at the collar of his shirt. "You don't have nightmares that keep you awake?"

Luna hasn't talked about what happened to her, but Dean has pieced some of it together. For months, she had been locked away in Malfoy Manor and used as leverage against her father. He cannot imagine the hell she had experienced as their prisoner. And yet, she doesn't act as though anything has happened at all. There's still an aura of serenity around her,

"I don't really have nightmares," she says. "You can't move on if you're still in the past. I think my subconscious knows that, and it lets me let go."

Dean doesn't know much about psychology, but he's reasonably sure it doesn't work like that. He thinks that maybe her trauma is so great that her mind is kind enough to let her forget long enough to move forward. But he doesn't tell her this. She seems content to believe as she wants to. Then again, that's how Luna has always been. She's a strange, beautiful, impossible girl. Once, he had found her to be too strange to handle. Slowly, his hesitation turned to fondness, and he could consider her a friend. Now, he realizes it goes so far beyond that.

"You're staring."

Dean shakes his head, her voice drawing him out of his thoughts. "Sorry. Zoned out," he explains.

Her lips tug into a small frown. "Wrackspurts?" she asks. "I didn't think there were any around here."

Dean raises his brows in confusion. Wrackspurts? He's listened to Luna talk about her imaginary creatures, but this is a new one. "Er… Wrackspurts?" he echoes uncertainly.

Rather than offering an explanation, Luna closes the distance between them and offers her hand to him. "Dance with me," she says. "They can't get to you if you're dancing."

He still doesn't know what exactly the strange, fictitious creatures actually are, but he doesn't question it. By now, he has learned to just accept Luna's eccentricities and go with it. Maybe she's impossible, but she's so beautiful, both inside and out.

There is no rhythm or music to guide them, but they dance along, bare toes caressing the cool sand beneath their feet. Luna is surprisingly good at dancing; Dean would have guessed she would be awkward and clumsy, but she moves with such grace.

He leans in, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to her lips before pulling away. Luna stares back him, her eyes wide and expression soft. For several seconds, neither of them speak. The silence is only broken by the distant sound of the storm over the sea.

"You kissed me," she says softly, smiling. "I think I liked it."

"You _think_?"

She shrugs. "It was rather fast." A broad smile plays at her lips. "Maybe we could try it again?"

He's happy to oblige.

* * *

 _Hot Air Balloon: dancing_

 _Flowers, Dahlia: Impossible Girl_

 _Fire Element: glow_

 _Gryffindor: Dean Thomas_

 _Faeries, spring: new, thunder, lightning_

 _Book Club, Aiko: notebook, sparkle, dream_

 _Showtime, Take What You Get: "You can't move on if you're still in the past."_

 _Buttons: serenity_


	17. Better Than a Dream (Jily)

_Word Count: 610_

 _Prompts at the end._

* * *

" _She gives me butterflies," James sighs, watching as Evans walks away._

 _His cheek still stings from where she had slapped him after colorfully telling him how much she hadn't appreciated his jokes, but it doesn't matter. He knows she'll come around one day._

" _Mate, in your dreams," Sirius snorts. "She hates you."_

" _You forget, my friend: dreams can come true."_

James creeps through the house, walking on tiptoes, a camera in his hand and a smile on his face. The warm scent of pancakes fills the house and makes his stomach growl. He walks carefully, still on the tips of his toes, his slippers bending slightly with each stealthy step.

 _Some days, his dream seems impossible. Lily notices him, but it isn't enough. She doesn't see him, doesn't care for him. James has always preached optimism, but he doesn't know if he can practice it now._

" _Why does it seem so far out of my reach?" James sighs._

" _Because she can barely stand the sight of you," Remus supplies._

" _Remind me never to piss you off," James snorts. "If you can wound me so easily as a friend, I hate to see what you could do to me as an enemy."_

His dreams have always been simple. Marry Lily, start a perfect life with her, and just be happy. Sometimes, it amazes him that he'd found a way to make those dreams come true. But here he is; Lily is his wife, and there are more beautiful days than bad ones.

He creeps through the hallway and comes to a stop outside the kitchen, lingering in the doorway. Lily's back is to him as he leans against the doorway, unable to resist a broad grin. Sunshine filters through the window, bathing her in a beautiful, soft golden light that makes his heart flutter.

He wonders how he got so lucky. Even if Lily came around and learned to tolerate him, how did she actually learn to _love_ him? He's spend years dreaming of this life, and now it's his reality.

" _Careful with the seedlings, Potter," Lily cautions._

" _Oi. I'm good at this," he says indignantly, folding his arms over his chest._

 _She rolls her eyes. "Yeah? Since when did you care about Herbology?" she snorts, gesturing at the little sprouts and blossoms that fill the greenhouse with color, as though to emphasize the word._

" _Always. It's in my name," he says, grinning. "Potters and plants are a perfect match."_

 _Normally, she would groan and tell him exactly where he can shove his silly jokes. This time, something seems to have changed. She covers her mouth to muffle a laugh, but the way her emerald eyes twinkle with amusement betray her._

" _Would you like at that," James muses with a victorious smirk. "Evans thinks I'm funny after all."_

" _Piss off, Potter." But she grins so brightly when she says it._

"Good morning, beautiful," he calls.

When his wife turns around, he snaps a picture. Too late to matter, Lily shields her eyes against the bright flash. "Oi! It's too early for your shenanigans!" she laughs, turning back to the stove. "Can you not?"

"Nope. I have to have proof, that way when I finally wake up I'll know it wasn't a dream."

Lily laughs and grabs the plates, taking them to the table. James licks his lips. Pancakes, topped with whipped cream and fresh strawberries. He takes it back. This is so much better than the life he had dreamt of.

"What are you smiling about?" she asks, summoning pitcher of orange juice with a wave of her wand.

"Just thinking of how lucky I am."

And he truly means it.

* * *

 _Holmes Mystery: walking on tiptoes_

 _Film Festival: camera_

 _Balloon: happy_

 _Gobstones, black (dreams): pancakes, friend, simple_

 _National Cheese Day: cheesy romance_

 _Summer: fresh_

 _Birthstone, topaz: "He/she gives me butterflies."_

 _Fire Element, Leo: Jily_

 _Gryffindor: Lily Evans_

 _Disney, Olaf: fluff_

 _Buttons: slippers_

 _Lo's Lowdown: "Remind me never to piss you off."_

 _Faeries, spring: sunshine, blossom, sprout, seedling_


	18. Reunite and Rebuild (DeanSeamus)

_Balloons: DeanSeamus_

 _Faeries, Air: wind, freedom, clouds_

 _Em's Emporium 3. Write a post-war story_

 _Word Count: 330_

* * *

Dean can't remember the last time the air actually felt breathable. For so long, he has been suffocating, struggle. But now he can feel it in his bone: this ongoing war is finally over, and he can relax again.

"Amazing, isn't it?"

Dean startles when he hears Seamus' voice. He hadn't expected anyone to find him atop the Astronomy Tower, but he doesn't mind. Seamus has always been his exception.

"What's amazing?" Dean asks as the wind picks up, caressing his skin.

Seamus moves closer. Dean shivers. It's been too long since they've been alone together, but it still feels so natural. Seamus' hand rests in his, and Dean feels his worries melt away. "It's finally over," Seamus answers, his thumb brushing over Dean's knuckle gently. "I didn't think it would ever end."

"Me neither," Dean admits, watching the clouds drift slowly across the sky.

Dean turns to him, unable to resist the smile playing at his lips. He still remembers the fear while on the run, never knowing if he would make it out alive. In those dark moments, his thoughts so often drifted to Seamus. Just thinking of him and imagining being able to see and hold him again had been enough to get Dean through somehow.

"What?" Seamus asks, his eyebrows raising. "You're staring. Do I have something on my face? Because I swear, I didn't blow anything up!"

With a soft laugh, Dean leans in, pressing his lips to Seamus'. He loves how easy it feels, as though his lips are made for nothing other than kissing this brilliant man. As Seamus' lips move gently against his own, Dean can't help but think that this is the first time he's felt like freedom is within reach in months.

"I missed you," Seamus says when they pull apart.

Dean just kisses him again because there are no words he can say to adequately explain the relief he feels now that he is in his boyfriend's arms again.


	19. We'll Have It (HelgaRowena)

_Word Count: 402_

* * *

" _Hold back the river so I_

 _Can stop for a minute and see where you hide."_

* * *

Rowena isn't surprised to find Helga in the forest that surrounds the castle. It doesn't matter that none of them know what dangerous creatures hide within the sense trees; her lover has always been the type to turn to the natural world.

"Helga, my love," she calls, gripping her cloak as the breeze picks it up and pulls the fabric back.

Helga looks up, and Rowena chuckles softly. Ever the peculiar one with her affinity for wildlife, Helga is kneeling before a grey and white rabbit. The creature is perfectly calm until Rowena steps forward. It hops away in a hurry.

Rowena doesn't know how she does it. Helga has always had the uncanny ability to sit with animals. Some days, Rowena thinks that her lover would be happier in the company of animals than people.

"I am surprised to see you out here," Helga says quietly. "I would have thought you would want Salazar to continue to woo you."

Rowena huffs eyes rolling. "Is that what this is about, my love? Jealousy?"

Helga is so gentle, so kind. It's easy to forget that someone so pure and wholesome can have even the slightest negative emotion within. Rowena closes the distance between them and kneels, cupping Helga's face in her hands. "My love, I do not want him."

"Why not? He can give you a proper future."

Rowena almost laughs. She has spent years planning her life with Helga. They are both well aware that it will not be easy. Two women together is almost unheard of in their society. Still, she doesn't care. She is willing to borrow Godric's bravery and fight for the future she wants.

"Do you know what I see when I imagine my future?" Rowena asks, plucking a yellow flower and tucking it behind her lover's ear, breathing in its sweet scent that perfumes the air. "I see you and me walking the castle, arm in arm. I see nights in my chamber, wrapped in satin sheets after sharing a bottle of wine. In every scenario I imagine, I am with you. Do not hide away, believing I would prefer Salazar to you."

She presses her lips to Helga's. All the tension between them seems to melt away.

"That's the life I want too," Helga whispers.

"Then we shall have it."

* * *

 _Balloons: HelgaRowena_

 _Gobstones, white stone (future): Forbidden Forest, animal lover, "Hold Back the River'_

 _Eagle Day, Luna: yellow, peculiar_

 _Faeries, air: gentle, breeze, air_


	20. Dessert First (GeorgeAngelina)

_Word Count: 638_

* * *

Angelina grins, watching George in his orange and cream checkered swim trunks. "Come on!" she urges, splashing him with the chilly lake water. "You aren't made of sugar. You won't melt!"

Her boyfriend's lips quirk into a hint of a smile. He pokes his toes into the water before quickly jerking his foot back and shivering frantically. "I might."

"Some people are worth melting for," she assures him, splashing him again. "Come on!"

She doesn't understand what his hesitation is. Coming to the lake had been his idea, after. And it's sweltering out. The crisp, cold water of the lake should be inviting. Angelina can't imagine why he would want to stay on land and sweat down when there's a perfectly relaxing body of water that's his for the taking.

"Wouldn't you rather eat first?" he suggests, lifting the picnic basket up for emphasis.

"Yes. Very much. That's exactly why I jumped in the water the second we got here," she retorts dryly. "Because the first thing in my mind is a picnic."

She expects George to laugh. He's always been one of the few people who could appreciate her sarcasm and humor. Instead, he just stares at her awkwardly, as though he's unsure what to do next. Angelina raises her brows curiously, studying him in silence for several seconds.

She doesn't know what's gotten into him, only that this isn't like him. Ordinarily, George would have already initiated at least one epic splash war and thrown her into the freezing water just for a laugh. All he has done today, though, is stay on the shore, watching her.

Frowning, Angelina swims closer until she has to stand. She walks the rest of the way to her boyfriend. "What's bothering you?" she asks, caressing his chest with her slender fingers. "You're acting so strange today."

George sits in the grass, resting the basket in his lap. At first, he doesn't speak. He digs through the basket in silence without even looking up at her. Finally, he sighs heavily, his eyes still fixed upon the basket's contents. "I fixed sandwiches," he tells her. "Packed some grapes too. But you know what?"

"What?"

"Those are boring. Why not start with dessert?"

A broad grin pulls at her lips. "I knew there was a reason I loved you so much," she teases, sitting next to him. "It's that beautiful mind."

The corners of his lips quirk. "And here I thought it was my rugged good looks," he snorts.

"Eh… You'll do."

His smile returns, and it makes her heart flutter. "You're perfect for me," he says. "That's what I've always liked about you, Ang. You get me in a way that no one else really does. Only… Only…" He trails off, clearing his throat. For a moment, he looks far away, and his brown eyes are dewy. "Only Fred ever understood me the way you do."

"George—"

He shakes his head. "No. No, I'm not looking for comfort," he says. "You've already given me that. See, after the war, I thought I wouldn't be able to smile again, but you proved me wrong. Even on the days that I hated everything, you made me feel like it wasn't completely hopeless. That's why…"

Again, he trails off. In the silence of the moment, he pulls out a cupcake piled high with mouthwatering chocolate frosting. But that isn't what catches her attention. In the center of the cupcake is a silver band with a heart shaped diamond.

"George…"

"Will you marry me?" he whispers. "Will you spend the rest of our days together by my side, as my partner in crime?"

She throws her arms around him. It doesn't matter that the cupcake smashes between them or that she can feel the frosting smear against her chest. "Yes," she says, kissing him. "Yes."

* * *

 _Balloon: orange_

 _Eagle, Lorcan: George Weasley, no more than two characters_

 _Days, World Ocean Day: set your story in, on, or under the water_

 _Summer: picnic basket_

 _Colors: cream_

 _Gryffindor: George Weasley_

 _Disney: "Some people are worth melting for."_

 _Buttons: GeorgeAngelina_


	21. Opportunity (GarrickAugusta)

_Hot Air Balloon: Ollivander's Wand Shop_

 _Chocolate Frogs, Garrick Ollivander: Write about Garrick Ollivander._

 _Word Count: 353_

* * *

"I see you've got your shop up and running again."

Garrick feels his heart skip a beat at that voice. Sure enough, when he turns around, he finds himself face to face with Augusta Longbottom. She smiles at him, a blush staining her cheeks as she adjusts her bold green hat.

"Luckily, yes," he tells her, returning the smile. "I was afraid the war might have forced me into retirement."

She moves closer, her short fingers grazing over the newly repaired counter. "I'm glad."

He is too, of course. The wand shop has been in his family for so long that he doesn't know what he would do without it. One day, he will pass it onto his son, and the legacy will continue.

Garrick returns the wand he's polishing to its box on the shelf before turning his attention back to Augusta. "And you, my dear?" he asks. "I heard you sent the Death Eaters on quite a chase."

She chuckles, a proud grin pulling at her thin lips. "Aye," she confirms. "They thought I was a powerless, sweet old lady."

He lifts his brows, an amused smile playing at his lips. No one in their right mind would ever mistake Augusta for such a delicate creature. "Suffice it to say you proved them wrong," he laughs, leaning against the counter. "What can I do for you, dear friend? I'm offering half off prices for any wand replacements due to the war."

Augusta plucks her wand from her bag and offers him a toothy grin. "No need for that, Garrick. I'm not here for business today," she tells him. "I wondered if I might take you to lunch."

"Take me?" he echoes. "Should it not be the other way around?"

The older woman snorts. "If I waited for you to do things _properly_ I would have to wait at least another decade. This war made me decide to stop waiting around and go for what I want. Now, Garrick, will you go out on a lunch date with me?"

He reaches over the counter and takes her hand. "I would be delighted."


	22. Healer (CharlieDraco)

_Assignment 12, Potions, task 1: Write about someone feeling under the weather._

 _Hot Air Balloon: "Why does it hurt so much?"_

 _Disney, Pabble: Write about a healer._

 _Showtime, Price and Son Theme / The Most Beautiful Thing in the World: Charlie Weasley_

 _Lo's Lowdown, Leonard McCoy: healer_

 _Word Count: 452_

* * *

Charlie groans as another cough rumbles through his chest. Breathing causes his whole body to ache; between his raw, tender throat and the strain in his chest, he is miserable and cannot get comfortable at all.

"Why does it hurt so much?" he asks, his voice raspy from the constant strain.

Draco rolls his eyes, carefully setting the steaming bowl of soup on the bedside table next to Charlie's water. "Because _someone_ was stubborn and insisted they didn't need treatment the moment they showed flu symptoms," he says flatly, pressing the back of his hand to Charlie's sweat-slick forehead. "Maybe next time you'll listen to me, Weasley."

"You love being able to say 'I told you so', don't you, Malfoy?" Charlie counters.

The blond snorts and pulls his hand away before rummaging through his cloak pocket. After a moment, he pulls out a vial that Charlie recognizes instantly. Over the past few days, he's had to drink his fair share or Pepper-Up Potion, and he hates it.

"Open," Draco says.

"No."

The younger wizard exhales, his nostrils flaring. He sucks in a deep breath before offering Charlie an obviously forced smile. "Don't you dare make me beg."

Charlie grins, but it makes his face hurt. "I like it when you beg."

"Tease," Draco accuses. "Behave."

"Never," Charlie chuckles, but he obediently opens his mouth and allows Draco to press the vial against his lips.

The potion is just as atrocious as it had been the day before. Charlie gags slightly as what feels like pure fire spreads through his body. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve before sinking back into the pillows with a soft burp. "Shouldn't you be a the infirmary?" he asks, his brown eyes flickering to the clock. "You should have gone back to work today."

Draco leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Charlie's cheek. "I'm making a house call," he chuckles before retrieving the soup. "Your mum helped me make this. She said it works like a charm."

Charlie eyes the golden broth with raised brows as he forces himself back into a sitting position. Though it's a sweet gesture, he can't help but to be hesitant. Draco isn't exactly known for his cooking skills. "Is my kitchen still intact?"

His boyfriend scowls. "I caught the stove on fire like six times, and suddenly it's expected," he grumbles.

"Six fires in the six attempts you've made at cooking."

"Eat your soup and hush," Draco says sternly, though his icy blue eyes twinkle with amusement. "Healer's orders."

With the smallest of smiles, Charlie spoons the warm broth into his mouth. Being sick isn't any fun, but at least Charlie has his favorite Healer to care for him.


	23. Don't Need a Book (ArgusIrma)

_Muggle Studies, task 4: Write about someone who just wants to be loved._

 _Balloon: Argus Filch_

 _Buttons: ArgusIrma_

 _Word Count: 529_

* * *

Irma scowls when she hears the soft footsteps between the shelves. Her dark eyes flicker to the slowly ticking clock, confirming that it's nearly curfew. Any late stragglers should at least be in the process of checking their books out, not perusing the shelves.

She clears her throat loudly and pointedly. The footsteps come to a stop, and she waits. No sheepish teenagers step out from between the shelves with books in their hands and apologetic smiles on their faces. With a groan, the librarian taps her long, arthritic fingers against the countertop. "Library is closing soon," she calls.

Still no answer, no acknowledgment at all. Irma tucks her short, greying hair behind her ears and stalks off. One day, she hopes to be able to enjoy her time in the library without students being an absolute pain. Unfortunately, she only tends to find peace during the summer, and those glorious moments are often interrupted by members of the staff.

"I said the library is about to close," she says again, her tone sharper now.

She doesn't find a student wandering the aisles and browsing for books. Instead, Argus Filch stands before her, his cheeks glowing a soft crimson. He hastily tries to shove the book back onto the shelf, but it falls to the floor. "Don't worry yourself with that, Irma," he says as she starts to reach for the book. "I've got it."

Their hands touch, and she feels a strange flutter within her stomach. Blushing, she glances down and frowns. "Why are you looking into love magic, Argus? You're a… You…" She clears her throat and offers him a small, apologetic smile.

The caretaker snatches the book from the floor and stands up straight again; Irma follows his lead. His thumb brushes over the hot pink spine of the book, tracing over the weathered silver letters. "I hoped to find something that wasn't magic. Something a Squib could do."

Their eyes meet, and she understands. She can't imagine how lonely he must be. They've worked with each other for what feels like an eternity, and she has never really seen him in the company of anyone other than that insufferable cat who is always at his side. Argus has never fit in; being a Squib must have made him feel so isolated from the rest of the castle.

"I just want to be loved," he whispers, and his voice is so soft that Irma isn't sure that he's spoken at all.

"You don't need a book for that, Argus." She rests her hand lightly against his cheek. "I…"

Before she convince herself that it's a bad idea, she leans in closer, pressing a kiss to his thin, scowling lips. He relaxes against her, his hands cupping her face. After a few moments, they pull apart, and his brown eyes glisten.

"You…?"

Irma nods. "I was always afraid to tell you. Now, I wish I would have done it sooner."

He pulls her closer, wrapping his arms around her slim frame. Their lips meet again, and she smiles into it. He doesn't have to be alone anymore; she can finally show him the love he has craved.


	24. Liberation Through Love (DudleyPiers)

_Philosophy, task 2: Write about being freed from something_

 _For my lovely Lo-tato Chip._

 _Word Count: 552_

Dudley can still feel the weight of hatred and shame wrapping around his insides and squeezing him. For a moment, he forgets how to breathe as he looks into Piers' dark eyes.

"Well? Come on; spit it out," Piers huffs impatiently as he folds his thin arms over his chest. Though the rest of his face is a mask of annoyance, Dudley can see the curiosity swimming in his eyes.

Christ! Why is this so hard? He opens his mouth, but the words seem to stick in his throat, choking him. His coughs and scrubs a pudgy hand through his tidy blond hair. "I…"

He can't remember the last time he's been so afraid. The palms of his trembling hands are slick with sweat. His stomach twists itself into a thousand painful knots, and he has to swallow hard to keep the acidic remains of his breakfast from snaking its way up his esophagus.

How could he not be terrified? He's spent his whole life learning that being different is wrong, that anything sort of _funny_ is punishable with a beating. His fists have exacted swift justice after swift justice, all because a kid had been different.

 _Ironic_ , Dudley thinks as he wrings his hands together and fails to steady his nerves with a deep breath.

He's spent years as a bully. Maybe there will always be a part of him that's afraid of the unusual, that's always ready to fight. Is this enough to change that?

With another shaky breath, he forces his attention back to Piers. The words tumble from his lips before he can stop them, before he can consider the best way to explain it. "I fancy you."

Dudley cringes, his cheeks heating with color. He hadn't planned to be so blunt, but there's no way to take it back now. He stares at Piers, waiting for the fallout, for the world to end. His body tenses. Piers' knuckles will split his lip and blacken his eyes, and he'll deserve it for being different, for being an abomination.

"You mean… You're gay?" Piers asks, his eyes wide.

Dudley is surprised that there is no hatred in his expression—only a softness that borders on curiosity. He swallows dryly, shrugging. "I don't know," he admits with a heavy sigh. "Maybe? I… I like blokes. I know that much for sure."

It's amazing how liberating it feels just to vocalize it. He's spent so long being weighed down his own hatred and lashing out at anyone who reminded him of himself. Now, he's open and honest, and he can finally breathe again; he is free.

"I don't know if I fancy blokes or not," Piers says, raking his thin fingers through his messy chestnut hair. "But I do know that I fancy you."

Dudley acts on instinct. He doesn't even allow himself to think about what he's doing as he leans in and presses his lips to Piers'. Over the years, he has kissed his fair share of girls, but it's never felt right. This, however, feels perfect, like the universe had been created just for this kiss to happen.

"What do we do now?" Piers asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Chips first," Dudley says, and Piers chuckles and rolls his eyes. "After that, we'll figure it out. Together."


	25. The Exception (GilderoyBlaise)

_Hogwarts Fun Fair, Kissing Booth, crack booth: Blaise Zabini must kiss Gilderoy Lockhart._

 _A/N: Obviously this is set in a world where Gilderoy's spell damage gets reversed._

 _Word Count: 370_

* * *

Blaise Zabini knows he should keep walking. It isn't like he owes the man on the street anything. In fact, stopping and doing a good deed would destroy his carefully crafted reputation of being detached and so above it all.

But he can't resist. He still remembers being twelve years old and rendered tongue tied at the sight of that golden hair and bright, pearly smile. Those feelings haven't faded over the years, even though Gilderoy Lockhart looks worse for wear now. His golden hair is streaked with white strands, and his once flawless skin is visibly lined. Dark shadows line his eyes.

But he is still handsome.

"Professor Lockhart?"

The older man looks at him with a confused smile. Blaise doesn't know what happened exactly all those years ago, only that his mind had been broken. He doesn't know how much of that's true; Gilderoy Lockhart doesn't look like a broken man.

"Professor," Gilderoy echoes with an amused quirk of his lips. "Ah… Yes, I was a professor. Best you ever had, I assume?"

Blaise can't help it. His cheeks heat, and he bites his lip. It shouldn't be this easy for someone to make him into a blushing fool. He is cool and collected; no one can shake him. So why is Gilderoy proving to be the exception?

"Blaise," Blaise says. "Blaise Zabini. Not sure if you remember me."

"I don't." Gilderoy's bright blue eyes move up Blaise's body, and the grin on his lips indicates that he likes what he sees. "But I wouldn't mind getting to know you again."

Before Blaise can even form a response in his head, Gilderoy leans in, his lips pressing against Blaise's in a quick kiss. When he pulls away, Gilderoy winks. "Have to keep it chaste," he says, gesturing at the busy street. No one seems to have even noticed the exchange. "Imagine the fun we could have in private."

Blaise would like to say that he's grown past his schoolboy crush, but he would be a liar. Trembling with excitement, he nods. "I don't live far from here," he says, grateful that his voice does not tremble the way his limbs do.

Gilderoy takes his hand. "Lead the way."


	26. For the Love of a Muggle (PetuniaAlecto)

_Fun Fair, Ferris Wheel: trust_

 _Fun Fair, Ice Cream: tutti fruitti (Alecto Carrow) and rhubarb (Petunia Dursley)_

 _Word Count: 380_

* * *

Alecto knows that she should know care for the Muggle—Petunia; such a pretty name for such a pretty woman. And yet she does.

She shouldn't trust Petunia. Muggles are horrible, filthy, interior things, and they should be treated as such. Alecto cannot bring herself to hate the strange blonde women.

" _Finish her," Amycus had hissed as they'd stood amongst the rubble of the safehouse._

 _Perhaps it would have been kinder to kill her. After all, her husband and son are dead. Why not let her join them? The only good Muggle is a dead Muggle._

 _But she can't. Something stirs within Alecto. For the first time in her life, she wants to be the hero._

"Everything will be okay," Alecto tells her, pushing her pudgy fingers through Petunia's silky hair with a smile. "You're safe. I'm here."

Petunia still wakes up screaming from the nightmares. At first, she hadn't wanted Alecto to hold her. Now, her slender arms always reach for the Death Eater.

" _I need you to trust me," Alecto whispers._

 _The Muggle woman glares at her in silence._

" _I'm risking everything to save you. Please…"_

 _Almost hesitantly, the woman takes her hand._

She had thought the Dark Lord's victory would be a reason to celebrate. Instead, Alecto finds herself on the run and in hiding, praying that the ones she had once served will never find her. Desertion is bad enough; abandoning her ranks for the love of a Muggle is the highest form of treason.

But Alecto doesn't care. She holds Petunia close, pressing sweet, chaste kisses to her forehead and cheeks, hoping that it is enough to chase away the nightmares.

"Why didn't you let me die?" Petunia whispers, her sleepless eyes fixed upon the starry sky beyond the window.

"I don't know."

And it's the truth. Alecto isn't the brightest, but she isn't enough of a fool to believe in love at first sight. But something had drawn her to Petunia; something had made her show mercy and defy everything she had ever believed.

"Will this ever be over?" she whispers, her thin lips tickling Alecto's neck.

Alecto can't bring herself to admit the truth: she doesn't know that either. Instead, she presses her lips to her lover's, and she hopes that it is enough.


	27. Interruption (CedricCho)

_Balloon Wall: CedricCho_

 _Hedge Maze:. "Are you sure about this?"_

 _Ferris Wheel: steam_

 _Word Count: 355_

* * *

Cedric feels his heart racing painfully in his chest at the sight of Cho, wrapped in the plush white towel. "Are you sure about this?" he asks.

In the back of his mind, he's well aware that maybe he should have asked _before_ suggesting he and his girlfriend sneak off to the prefects' bath. He doesn't like the way the doubt creeps into his mind now.

Cho laughs softly, letting the towel fall away and revealing her swimsuit beneath. "What's there to be sure about?" she asks softly, sticking her foot in the warm water, testing the temperature.

The steam from the water rises, swirling around her slender body. Cedric takes a step back, his jaw dropping. He wonders how it's possible for her to look so breathtaking when she isn't doing anything more than just existing. Keeping his eyes on her as she takes a step closer, Cedric fools with a tap. Scented bubbles spill into the water, tickling his skin and perfuming the air.

"You…" He swallows dryly, trying to steady himself. Why is it so hard to talk to her right now? His throat seems to tighten, and his heartbeat quickens as his tongue seems to stick to the roof of his mouth. "You look beautiful."

She closes the distance between them and rests her hands on his shoulders—slick skin upon slick skin. "You don't look so bad yourself," she whispers, her hands sliding slowly down his arms.

Their lips meet, and his heart seems to skip a beat. They have kissed countless times before, but this feels different. There is no other word to describe it than perfection, like they've always been meant for this moment, for this kiss. His fingertips ghost down her back, eliciting a shiver from her; she presses closer to him…

And screams.

Cedric glances up just in time to see Myrtle's translucent figure flash across the room and vanish. He groans, deflating slightly. "Guessing she's killed the mood," he muses with a soft chuckle.

Cho pulls away. "Definitely."

"Fair."

And as she climbs out and wraps the towel around her again, Cedric finds himself cursing Myrtle.


	28. Stay With Me (DeanDraco)

_Kissing Booth (medium): Dean Thomas must kiss Draco Malfoy_

 _Penny Slots: Draco Malfoy, marked, polite_

 _Voldemort wins!AU_

 _Word Count: 507_

* * *

i _._

No one trusts Draco Malfoy one bit. Dean can hardly blame them, of course. He is a marked man with a terrible past.

Everyone looks at the so-called reformed Death Eaters with narrowed eyes.

"He says he wants to help," Lee Jordan says, rolling his eyes at the last word.

Neville considers for a moment, and Dean can't help but hold his breath. Neville is nothing but good and kind, but there is so much history between the two of them. Will this be the day that Neville finally shows his dark side?

"He can stay," Neville decides, and Dean lets out a breath.

There is a protest from the crowd, but no one actually argues. With Harry dead and the Dark Lord reigning, they will have to trust Neville.

Dean prays they've made the right choice.

ii.

Dean hears the cry in the tent next to him. By now, it's commonplace. He can't remember the last time screams and sobs didn't pierce the quiet night air.

But he can't bring himself to just ignore it. He and Draco aren't exactly friends, but no one deserves to go through hell alone.

Draco's pale face is beaded in a cold sweat. His breathing is ragged, and his arms are wrapped tightly around himself like he's so afraid he's going to fall about.

"It'll be okay," Dean says, sitting across from him.

It's a lie. The world is a dark, miserable place, and he has forgotten what it's like to feel hopeful. But he keeps telling the lie, hoping that one day he will believe it.

Draco lunges at him. Dean tenses, prepared to push the blond away, but Draco doesn't hurt him. Instead, his lips find Dean's, and he kisses him desperately, his fingers curling to grip Dean's shoulders, like he doesn't want to let go.

"I'm scared," Draco whispers, his voice trembling.

"So am I," Dean admits.

"Stay with me?"

And Dean does. He tells himself it's just because he wants to be polite, but that isn't quite true. He's just as broken, just as scared as Draco is. Maybe he needs someone.

iii.

He doesn't love Draco, and Draco definitely doesn't love him. But that doesn't stop Dean from coming back night after night.

It isn't a romance or even a fling. They are little more than two lonely souls trying to keep the demons at bay.

iv.

"Do you think it will ever be over?" Draco whispers as they sit outside, watching the stars with sleepless eyes.

"I don't know," Dean says because it's easier than admitting the truth: he's so afraid that this war is endless, that the fighting will never stop.

Draco holds his hand, and it isn't enough to ease his mind, but it's a start.

v.

Draco Malfoy is a marked man. At night, though, Dean marks him in a different way, marks him out of lust rather than hatred and wickedness.

"We're gonna make it," he murmurs, nibbling Draco's neck and leaving behind another mark.

And he almost believes..


	29. Freezing (KingsleyHermione)

_Kissing Booth: Kingsley must kiss Hermione._

 _Ferris Wheel: snow_

 _Word Count: 367_

* * *

"You shouldn't be out here. It's freezing!"

Kingsley turns, smiling at the sight of Hermione. Her cheeks are flushed pink from the snowy air, and she's bundled up so tightly. "You shouldn't be either," he counters with a soft chuckle.

The younger with huffs, the exhale turning to steam in the freezing air. "It's getting late," she says. "Come to bed."

His lips quirk in amusement. He wonders if Hermione has ever done anything other than worry. By now, he knows all about the years she's spent fussing and fretting over Harry and Ron. He's tempted to remind her that he is, in fact, quite a bit older than she is, and the Minister. If anything, he should be the one worrying over her.

Instead, he sighs. "I wanted to clear my head," he tells her.

He knows that she understands. It has been three years since the final battle. He had spent too time trying to drown his demons with alcohol. This has become his alternative. If he goes outside and reminds himself that he is alive, that he is still here, he can get some peace, if only for a moment.

She rests a gloved hand against his, offering him a soft smile. "Come on, love," she urges, pressing herself closer to him. He can feel the way she shivers against the chilling wind, her teeth chattering together almost frantically. "I wouldn't mind a nice cuppa right now."

Kingsley wraps his arms around her, holding her closer. "I can think of much better ways to warm up," he murmurs suggestively, trailing his lips along her neck and lingering close to her lips.

The shiver that shoots through her body now has nothing to do with the cold. She looks up at him, pressing her lips to his in a quick, teasing kiss. "We can't do that if we're outside," she points out before turning and walking off.

Kingsley stares after her for a moment, smiling to himself. She looks so beautiful, her messy curls collecting snow as it drifts. There's no doubt in his mind that he is the luckiest man alive, and that loving Hermione Granger is enough to keep the demons at bay.


	30. Perfect Life (CharlieNewt)

_Ice Cream Stall: Blueberry (Newt) and Cream Cheese (Charlie)_

 _Circus, jugglers: green, fantastic_

 _Bumper Cars: Charlie Weasley_

 _417 words_

* * *

"Look at that!" Newt calls, clapping his hands together excitedly as Simone, the newest Welsh Green at the sanctuary, breathes out a little sputter of flame. "Oh, that's fantastic! Absolutely brilliant."

Charlie stands back, arms folded over his chest as he watches the baby dragon stamp around, its green scales shimmering in the sunlight. But more amazing than the little learning to breathe fire is Newt Scamander. When their relationship had begun a year earlier, no one seemed to understand. All they could see was the massive age difference, and they would look at Charlie with confusion—and sometimes disgust—in their eyes.

But Charlie doesn't care. It's little moments like this that remind him how lucky he is to have Newt. Some people fear dragons; some look at them with the same detached curiosity they might look at a rock. But Newt is different. He shares Charlie's passion for the magnificent winged creatures. His bright eyes light up with fascination at even the smallest accomplishments.

"Well, you're being the strong, silent type," the older wizard notes, approaching Charlie with a wide grin. "What's going on in that brilliant mind of yours?" For emphasis, he taps his finger lightly against Charlie's forehead.

"Thinking of how lucky I am," Charlie answers.

Newt nods and turns his attention back to Simone who flaps her wings impatiently. She isn't old enough to take flight yet, but that hasn't stopped her from trying her damnedest. "Quite lucky," Newt agrees with another nod. "I would have loved to be able to have this sort of job in my youth. It was damn near unheard of back then, of course."

Charlie chuckles and shakes his head. As brilliant as Newt is, he seems to miss the point quite often. His mind is always so preoccupied with the world around him and all the little curiosities that abound.

"Not just because of my job," Charlie says patiently, resting a hand on his lover's should, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into Newt's skin through his shirt. "I get to share this life with someone who understands, someone who knows how wonderful these creatures are."

Newt leans in, resting his head against Charlie's arm. "We are lucky," he agrees. "I couldn't ask for more from this life."

And as they watch Simone go about her business, pawing at the dirt and shooting out then streams of flame, Charlie can't stop smiling. He has such an unconventional life, but, to him, it is perfect. What else could he need?


	31. Strength (HannahSusan)

It's easy to give into sadness. Hannah's unsteady hands reach for the bottle. She drinks deeply, praying the amber liquid is enough to burn away and drown her demons. This scene has become all too familiar. Since the war ended four months earlier, she has often found comfort at the bottom of the bottle.

Something acidic burns within her veins. She doesn't want to acknowledge it, but that emotion is as familiar as her drunken nights.

 _Shame_.

What would her mother think if she could see Hannah now?

But that doesn't make her stop or try to change. Instead, she only Summons another bottle, trying to cover up the guilt as well as the pain.

She wonders if she will ever be anything more than just a broken girl, clinging to the past.

…

"Hannah?"

Susan's hands are gentle as they rest on Hannah's shoulders.

"Hannah? Hey…"

Hannah blinks up at her and almost smiles. "Love… you," she slurs, because that's one things she knows for sure.

She is a mess. She is haunted. But she loves Susan Bones more than anything in this world, and, by some miracle, Susan loves her back.

"It's going to be okay," Susan murmurs, stroking Hannah's messy blonde hair.

"How?"

Susan doesn't answer; Hannah almost laughs. She doesn't understand how people can still make promises like they can keep them. Hasn't the war taught them how dangerous hope can be?

…

Her vision blurs, but she doesn't stop drinking. She can still feel, and she hates it.

…

"I hate that the world doesn't work out fair," Hannah murmurs, reaching for another bottle.

"I miss Justin too," Susan whispers.

The bottle falls from Hannah's grip, and she slumps forward, resting her head against her lover's shoulder. "And my mum."

"My aunt."

And the list goes on and on. They have lost too many people, and it makes it so much easier to give in.

…

She hates herself, but she doesn't know how to change.

…

"I love you," Susan says, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Hannah blinks rapidly, trying so desperately to keep the tears at bay.

"But I can't sit by while you drink yourself to death."

Hannah reaches for her, desperate, her heart racing painfully. "Don't leave me." The tears fall now, and she doesn't try to wipe them away. "I can be better."

She doesn't know how. There are still too many demons lurking in her mind, and she has to find a way out. But, really, if Susan stays by her side, she thinks maybe she can do anything.

…

Sobriety is hell. She's spent so long clinging to the bottle, desperate calling alcohol her salvation. Going without hurts, and she can feel it all the way in her bones.

But Susan is there, and she makes Hannah strong.

…

"You've come a long way," Susan says, holding her close. "Are you ready for this?"

Hannah takes a deep breath. It's been a year since the final battle and three months since her last drink. She feels like she needs something strong to get her through the memorial service.

"I'll be okay," she says, her words quivering.

Susan wraps an arm around her, and Hannah relaxes. She doesn't need strength from a bottle. All the strength she could ever need is right beside her.

* * *

 _For_

 _Character Appreciation: Hannah Abbott_

 _Book Club, Captain Hook: broken, getting drunk, "I hate that the world doesn't work out fair."_

 _Showtime, History Has Its Eyes On You: shame_

 _Amber's Attic: HannahSusan_

 _Lyric Alley: "And I'm trying not to cry."_

 _Lo's Lowdown, Grantaire: Write about a Hufflepuff_

 _Color: Amber_

 _Musical, Movin' Out: Write about a war changing someone._

 _556 words_


	32. A Different Kind of Falling (FrankAlice)

_Character Appreciation: "I'll fight you."_

 _Book Club, Phillip: breaking a bone, gift, control_

 _Showtime, That Would Be Enough: FrankAlice_

 _Amber's Attic: FrankAlice_

 _Piñata, medium_

 _Word Count 377_

* * *

"At least you're pretty," Frank offers, lips quirking into an awkward, nervous smile. "That's gotta count for something, right?"

Alice glares up at him. She wants nothing more than throw something at him, but her wrist is very much broken. Judging by the swelling in her foot, she guess her ankle is possibly broken as well. "I'll fight you," she grumbles, but her heart isn't in it.

Her boyfriend moves with surprising grace on his ice skates. Alice doesn't know how he does it, and she is grudgingly impressed. Somehow, he even manages to carefully scoop her into his arms without losing his balance. "Would you really try to fight your rescuer?" he asks, skating along.

"Since my bones wouldn't be broken if my 'rescuer' hadn't decided to go ice skating… In a heartbeat," she confirms, though she can't resist the smile that tugs at her lips.

"You wound me. Not my fault you can't control yourself and had to literally _fall_ for me."

His grin tells her that he's insanely proud of his joke. Alice lets out a small laugh and shakes her head. "That was terrible."

"Not as terrible as your balance."

She's about to respond when Frank carefully sets her down on the snowy bank by the frozen pond. The snow freezes her bum, and she shrieks but can't get away. "It's bloody cold!"

"Shhhh. Come on. Wrist first."

With a wince, she extends her arm. Frank examines her with the softest of touches. "Clean break," he announces, drawing his wand. "Easy enough fix."

He mutters the healing spell, and Alice hisses as she feels her bones shift and fuse themselves back together. The pain fades after a few moments. Frank focuses his attention on her ankle now. The process repeats, and she feels as good as new again.

"Still wanna fight me?" he asks sheepishly.

With a laugh, Alice wraps her arms around him, pulling him closer and kissing him. "I guess I'll let you slide this time."

"Great! Back to skating?"

Alice groans and rolls her eyes. "I have many gifts," she tells him. "Ice skating is not one of them."

He presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Hot chocolate then?"

"Now that sounds like the perfect end to a date."


	33. Sleeplessness and Dreaming (BlaiseTheo)

_Book Club, Pine Sap: insomniac, hesitant, "I don't have the heart for murder."_

 _Showtime, Farmer Refuted: mercy_

 _Amber's Attic: BlaiseTheo_

 _Buttons: Theo Nott_

 _Hamilton Mania, having regrets: wistful (pillow)_

 _Piñata, easy_

 _Word Count: 612_

* * *

Blaise can't remember the last time he's slept through the night. It feels like years, though he thinks it's most likely been a few months. It's hard to pinpoint the exact moment everything changed, the moment his mother started insisting that he lay low while everyone else insisted that he take the Dark Mark.

Now, the world is upside down. The Carrows have transformed Hogwarts into a nightmare circus. And Blaise can't do anything but fix how sleepless eyes upon the ceiling.

He feels the subtle shift on the mattress and almost smiles. He and Theo have been sneaking around, sharing beds since first year. If any of the other boys have noticed, they haven't mentioned it.

"Still can't sleep?" Theo asks, his fingers ghosting along Blaise's exposed chest.

Blaise shakes his head, though he knows it's too dark in the dormitory for Theo to see. "Shocking, isn't it?" he chuckles under his breath.

Theo moves closer, snuggling against Blaise. Blaise smiles to himself. Even if the world is crazy, and the war has brought out the worst in people, Theo remains unchanged. It's one of life's small mercies that he has someone so constant by his side, that he has anything in this ever-changing world that can bring him peace and comfort.

"What are you thinking about?"

Blaise swallows dryly. Being neutral is easy in theory. In practice, however, he finds himself having to carefully choose his words wherever he turns. He's hesitant, but the words finally fall from his lips. "I'm tired of the war," he admits. "I don't have the heart for murder." He pauses, sinking a little deeper into his pillow. "I just want it to end, you know? Do you ever dream of running away?"

"All the time," Theo confirms, his voice wistful.

Blaise rolls onto his side, wrapping an arm around Theo. He feels stupid for worrying so much about himself. Theo has been faced with so much pressure from his Death Eater father. It's hard to imagine how he feels, and Theo had always preferred to keep his emotions bottled up.

"Do you think we could do it?" Theo murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Blaise's shoulder.

"Do what?"

"Run away."

It takes him a moment to realize he has, in fact, heard the other boy correctly. He squints into the darkness, trying to make out his boyfriend's features and search for some signs of humor there. But Theo looks dead serious.

"It's impossible," Blaise sighs.

He's sure there's a way out of the castle and into the world beyond, but he has no idea where to even begin. Even if he did, it's too dangerous. He can't imagine what would happen if they were caught breaking the new law. Two Pureblood boys from respectable families defying the Ministry's decree is unimaginable. He shudders to think of the scandal it would cause, the pain their families would go through, the fallout.

"Yeah." Theo snuggles closer. "But it's nice to dream, right?"

Blaise wraps his arms around his boyfriend, pressing a kiss to the other boy's forehead. "Very nice," he agrees.

"But would you?"

"For you? In a heartbeat."

And as he lays there, sleepless and restless while Theo's soft snores feel the air, all he can think of is escaping, running away and starting a new life somewhere with Theo by his side. In the back of his head, he knows how dangerous it is to love someone so deeply that he would risk everything for their happiness. He knows he ought to look out for his own interests, put himself first.

But Theo is the exception. He always will be.

Somehow, Blaise doesn't mind.


	34. Comfort (KingsleyRosmerta)

_Book Club, Nibs: helpful, dancing, inviting someone to move in_

 _Showtime, Election of 1800: beer_

 _Amber's Attic: KingsleyRosmerta_

 _Lo's Lowdown, Enjolras: Write about a leader_

 _Hamilton Mania, winning a war: post-war ("Death doesn't discriminate.")_

 _Medium piñata_

 _455 words_

* * *

Kingsley isn't sure what he would do without Rosmerta. Since the war's end, he's been thrown into the role of Minister, and it has been non-stop. Rosmerta, ever the wonderful and helpful lover, has kept her pub open after hours so that he can relax and unwind without being bombarded by question after question.

"Dance with me," she says, tucking her golden blonde curls behind her ears and smiling at him, her hand extended to him.

"No music," he says, sipping his beer and setting his glass down with a satisfied sigh.

She doesn't drop her hand. Her dark blue eyes rest upon him expectantly, and he laughs. As Minister, he tends to spend his days giving orders and guiding people along. Yet here he is, unable to say no to Rosmerta. With a grin, he accepts her hand, allowing her to guide him to his feet.

"Hard day at work?" she asks as they begin to dance slowly along the empty pub.

Kingsley nods, swallowing dryly. "Another kid's funeral," he says sadly, releasing a heavy sigh. "Death doesn't discriminate. She was so young…"

Rosmerta pauses and brushes her fingertips along his cheek. His eyes flutter closed. The world is still in disarray, and it's been constant chaos for the past month, but Rosmerta has been there. All it takes is her smile, and it feels like things will be okay.

"You're strong," she whispers. "I have to watch people drown their sorrows with alcohol, and I can barely stand it. But you… You have to witness their grief in such a raw form. I can't imagine how your heart must be breaking."

He holds her close, kissing her gently. "I _have_ to be strong," he says. "You make it easier."

Their dance resumes, and he finds himself smiling at last. As expected, Rosmerta brings him peace and comfort, and he can almost relax.

"You're here every night," she murmurs.

"Good beer, even better company," he chuckles.

Rosmerta looks up at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You could stay with me," she says. "Move in, live above the pub. No more rushing and worrying."

"Awfully bold of you," he teases.

"Well?"

He doesn't even have to think about it. There is no doubt in his mind that he and Rosmerta are meant to be, and the answer falls so easily from his lips. "Yes."

Kingsley knows that it's a big change, and that the world is already unsteady enough, that he shouldn't add more to the chaos. But he doesn't care. This is a leap of faith he's willing to take. Even if it's another uncertainty, another sudden shift, at least he can take comfort in knowing that he won't be alone.


	35. Together Again (DeanPiers)

_Kissing Booth, medium: Piers Polkiss must kiss Dean Thomas_

 _Showtime, What'd I Miss: home sweet home_

 _Lyric Alley: Now I'm writing a letter nightly._

 _Hamilton Mania, falling in love: romance (diary)_

 _Word Count: 443_

* * *

It feels so strange to be back the war. Dean looks around, marvelling at the fact that it hasn't really changed since he'd left nearly a year ago. "Home sweet home," he murmurs.

All that's missing is his family, but he knows they'll be back soon enough.

He throws his torn and battered bag onto the couch before before slumping onto the cushions with a heavy sigh. The war is finally over. He can breathe again and learn to rebuild.

There's a sudden, urgent banging on the door. Instinctively, Dean jumps to his feet, drawing his wand. He tries to remind himself that everything is okay, that Death Eaters don't knock before murdering. One day, the war might leave him, but today is not that day.

"Dean?"

Hearing the familiar voice makes him relax, if only slightly. He crosses the room, tucking his wand into his pocket but making sure it's still easy enough to retrieve. Hesitantly, hands trembling, he opens the door.

Piers Polkiss grins at him, and Dean feels like his heart is melting. "It's the strangest thing," he says, stepping inside. "Right after my best mate vanished without a word, my boyfriend did the same."

"I'm sorry."

Piers grips Dean by the shoulders and pulls him close. For a moment, all they can do is stare at one another. Dean's breathing hitches as relief washes over him.

"I missed you," Dean whispers.

Piers' lips crush against his own. Dean smiles into it. For months, he's been so afraid he wouldn't make, that he would never see Piers again. It had been hell leaving without a word, knowing he couldn't even begin to explain the circumstances. But none of it matters now.

"Are you going to tell me what the hell that was about?" Piers asks when they finally break apart.

Dean stares at him, unsure what to say. Finally, he nods. "I wrote you a letter each day," he says, making his way to the couch and pulling out the ragged, weathered sketchbook he had transformed into a sort of diary. He hadn't expected to make it out alive. Though he had faithfully written to Piers and explained everything that's happened, he hadn't planned to be here now, to actually give it to him.

Part of him is still terrified. How will Piers ready if he knows the truth? They've known each other since childhood, and he's had to keep so many secrets.

But it's time to let go, to allow Piers to be part of his world if he wants to be. Heart racing, he hands his boyfriend the diary of letters, smiling. "Here's everything I wanted to say."


	36. Watching, Waiting (RegulusBarty)

_Book Club, Reginald Smee: love at first sight, obsession, Regulus Black_

 _Showtime, Helpless: love at first sight_

 _Amber's Attic: RegulusBarty_

 _Lyric Alley: Then you walked in, and my heart went 'Boom!'_

 _Lowdown, Marius: love at first sight_

 _Hamilton Mania, being blackmailed: Barty Jr., "That boy is mine."_

 _Easy piñata_

 _652 words_

 _For Bex_

* * *

V.

Regulus' hands are trembling as he takes a drag from his cigarette, his grey eyes fixed upon the sky. Barty hates how troubled he looks. Regulus is meant to be handsome and relaxed, and this mask is so foreign to him.

"I'm scared, Barty," he says, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the darkness. "I don't have a choice."

Barty doesn't have to ask. Their conversations so often turn to the war, and they've discussed every possibility. Only one thing could ever make Regulus feel so helpless.

"I'll join you," Barty assures him, resting his hand on Regulus' forearm, where the Dark Mark will go.

"I could never ask you to do that."

Barty presses his lips to Regulus', kissing him softly and holding him close. "You don't have to ask. I would happily walk through hell with you, Reg."

The other boy looks up, his eyes meeting Barty's curiously. "Why?"

"Because I loved you the moment I saw you," he answers. "The second you ended up in my compartment, I thought to myself, 'that boy is mine', and, well... I was lucky."

Regulus' arms wrap around Barty. His lips trail little kisses along Barty's jaw. "What would I do without you?"

IV.

"I don't want to join them," Regulus admits. "But since Sirius ran off, they're looking at me like it's my bloody job to restore the family's honor."

Barty listens without really hearing. His eyes are focused on Regulus' lips. All he wants to do is kiss him. Even if he isn't paying attention, he's well aware of his boyfriend's tone and the notes of distress lacing each syllable.

He leans in, cutting Regulus off with a kiss. "It will be okay."

Regulus' fingers rake through Barty's dirty blond hair as he pulls away. "How?" he asks, digging in his pocket and retrieving a cigarette which he tucks between his lips.

At first, Barty can't speak. He wants nothing more than to replace that cigarette, to have Regulus' lips hunger only for him.

But it's impossible. Regulus' addiction is nicotine, not Barty.

Barty rests his hand on Regulus'. "I'll help you."

Regulus lights the cigarette, his lips twisting into a smile around the filter. "You know you're amazing, right?"

Barty shivers. The comment is probably offhand, but, to him, it's as good as a marriage proposal. On day, Regulus will truly love him. One day, Barty will be all he needs.

All his has to do is wait.

III.

"Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?" Regulus asks.

Barty stares at him, at a loss for words. "As friends?"

"Or more," Regulus answers, and the blush that creeps into his cheeks is absolutely gorgeous.

Barty can barely believe it. His hard work has finally paid off.

II.

 _Regulus Black._

 _Regulus Crouch._

 _Barty Black._

It's such a silly, immature thing, but Barty scribbles away. It's fun to daydream, to imagine that Regulus sees him as something more, that they can have their happily ever after together.

He will. Somehow.

Regulus will learn to love him; Barty just knows it!

No one else loves Regulus the way he does. No one else would follow Regulus and learn his every love, his every hatred. No one would ever want him the way Barty does.

It's only a matter of time.

I.

Barty recognizes Regulus Black the moment he appears in the compartment. His father had pointed him out and stressed the fact that Regulus is dangerous, that the whole family is wicked.

"Can I sit here?"

Perhaps Barty should be a good boy and tell the other boy to piss off, but he can't. His eyes are fixed upon the dark haired Adonis, and everything seems to change.

"Be my guest," he says brightly. "I'm Barty."

"Regulus."

And as the train pulls out of the station, the two fall deeper and deeper into conversation, and Barty falls deeper in love.


	37. His Girls (PeecyAudrey)

_Book Club, Aunt Sticky Feet: hugging someone, shawl, heaven_

 _Showtime, Dear Theodosia: becoming a parent_

 _Buttons: glasses_

 _Hamilton Mania, getting a job: Percy Weasley ("Talk less, smile more.")_

 _Word Count: 339_

* * *

Percy rushes in, his glasses askew, breathing heavily. "Did I miss it?" he asks, pausing to adjust his glasses. "I came as soon as I heard. Is she here?"

When he finally manages to catch his breath, he notices the tiny bundle in his wife's arms. He hurries closer, his heart fluttering wildly. "Is everything okay?" he asks, hugging her before turning his attention to his newborn daughter. "Is she healthy? Are you in pain? I'm so sorry I couldn't be here. I was out of my office. Do you—"

"Talk less," Audrey interrupts with a laugh. "Smile more. Look at our beautiful Molly."

He does, and his heart skips a beat. She is so tiny and perfect. Hesitantly, he holds out his arms. "Can I… Can I hold her?" he asks, his voice breaking with emotion.

With a smile, Audrey carefully places the squirming baby into his arms before laying back again and adjusting her shawl with a shiver.

Percy marvels at his daughter, his perfect little Molly. They have spent years hoping for a successful pregnancy, then months waiting for their beautiful girl to finally arrive. Now that it's happened, Percy can hardly believe it. He wonders if this is what heaven must feel like— everything aligns, and the world becomes perfect.

He sits on the bed beside his wife, resting his head against hers. "She's perfect," he whispers.

Audrey presses a kiss to his cheek. "She is," she agrees.

Panic grips him. Tears cling to his lashes, and he quickly blinks them away. He hadn't had the best relationship with his parents in his youth. He had considered himself superior, blinded by his own ambition. Some days, he had been outright cruel to them. Now, he feels the weight of his mistakes. Audrey has helped him become a better person, and he is grateful for her. He only hopes that his daughter will be better than he had ever hoped to be.

"I love you," he says, kissing Molly's forehead, then Audrey's. "I love my girls."


	38. Worth It (SalazarRowena)

_Book Club, Curly: crazed, flute, rush_

 _Showtime, A Winter's Ball: Is it a question of if, [name], or which one?_

 _Amber's Attic: SalazarRowena_

 _Buttons: "I'm not here for you."_

 _Lyric Alley: Grind to the rhythm as we wine and dine._

 _Hamilton Mania, attending a party: champagne, "I'm not here for you."_

 _371 words_

* * *

Salazar has always hated these little gatherings. There's something so obnoxious about so many dancing bodies and women with painted faces making eyes at their intended. And yet he finds himself accepting a glass of champagne and sipping it, though he remains in the shadows and away from everyone's attention.

That doesn't stop Godric from noticing him. His old friend rushes over with a bright grin on his lips. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist, dear friend," he laughs.

"I'm not here for you," Salazar assures him, though he can't resist the smile that tugs at his lips. "I suppose you'll be searching, trying to decide if one of these women can share your bed tonight."

Godric raises his brows, smirking. "Is it a question of _if,_ Salazar, or which one?"

It's all talk, of course. Godric has always prided himself on his chivalry and honor. The very thought of him having an intimate dalliance with a stranger is almost laughable.

"That raven haired goddess hasn't been able to take her eyes off you," Godric murmurs. "And look! She's here with Helga! How lovely."

Salazar follows his friend's gaze curiously. Sure enough, a woman with clever eyes watches him. When their eyes meet, she offers him a grin. Helga seems to notice and whispers something in the other woman's ear. A moment later, the dark haired woman makes her way over, her lithe body swaying to the gentle rhythm of the flute.

"I'll be going," Godric says, clapping him on the back. "Good luck."

And then he's gone. Salazar doesn't have a second to gather his senses before the woman reaches him. "Rowena," she says. "Helga has told me so much about you."

"Rowena?"

He knows her now. She is magical, like him. From Helga's stories, she is like the old goddess Minerva: half wisdom, half war. Salazar thinks he might be half in love already.

"Shall we?" he asks, offering her his hand.

She accepts it with a smile. "I thought you would never ask."

His heart seems to beat like a frantic, crazed thing, but he ignores it as he leads her onto the dance floor.

Perhaps these silly little gatherings are worth his time after all.


	39. Holding On to Hope (GilderoyKingsley)

_Hamilton Mania, being fired: Minister (hardship)_

 _Showtime, My Shot: bragging_

 _Sophie's Shelf, vault 53: stress_

 _Lo's Lowdown: "Love has no middle term: it either saves or it destroys."_

 _Insane House Challenge: pumpkin juice_

 _Ferris Wheel: Gilderoy Lockhart_

 _Kissing Booth: GilderoyKingsley_

 _580 words_

* * *

Gilderoy's smile is bright when he sees Kingsley, but there is no recognition in his blue eyes. "Are you here for my autograph?" he asks. "I'm quite famous, you know." His smile falters slightly. "I'm not sure why…"

"I brought you some pumpkin juice," Kingsley says, setting the cup in front of the other man.

Gilderoy's grin returns, and he claps his hands together happily. "You are a fan!" he exclaims. "Not surprising. I _am_ pretty amazing."

"Yeah. You are."

It's hard seeing him like this. Even if bits and pieces of the old Gilderoy are coming through, it isn't the same. This isn't the man he loves.

By now, as Minister, Kingsley is used to being able to fix things and solve problems. But how can he fix this? He has pooled all possible resources into St. Mungo's, hoping they can find a way to reverse spell damage. It's possible that this is one hardship he will not be able to overcome.

Gilderoy peers up at him, smiling that dreamy smile, and it makes Kingsley's heart break.

"We'll get you back," he says, climbing to his feet. "I promise."

It kills him to turn his back on Gilderoy and walk away, but he knows there is nothing left to do.

…

"Send half of my salary to St. Mungo's from here on out," he tells his secretary.

Her eyes flash with curiosity, but she doesn't ask. "Yes, Minister."

…

"I can single handedly defeat even the most skilled duelists!" Gilderoy boasts, sipping the pumpkin juice Kingsley has brought him. "Easily!"

But he doesn't speak with the confidence he once had. There's a detached tone to his voice, and he doesn't really look at Kingsley. The few times they make eye contact, Gilderoy looks puzzled, like he can't quite place the man sitting before him.

"Quite amazing, you know."

Kingsley smiles softly. "Yes," he says sadly. "You are."

…

Some days, loving Gilderoy feels like more stress than reward. Kingsley is being torn apart, and it hurts so much to hold on.

But he can't bring himself to let go. Even if this love destroys him, he will do everything he can to save Gilderoy.

…

Word of his donations to the hospital spread. They call him a philanthropist as they emphasize that it's gold from his own pocket.

If only they knew how selfish he truly is.

…

"Did I tell you about the yeti?" Gilderoy asks, scribbling happily away, drawing little smiley faces on his parchment. "There's a book about it! I'm quite impressive."

Kingsley pretends his heart is still intact. "You are."

He doesn't tell Gilderoy that he knows the truth, that his deceit is well known now. This is such a small, painful glimpse of the man he loves, and he will not ruin it.

…

"We're doing everything we can, Minister," the Head of the Healers informs him proudly. "I think we've really made some progress."

But Kingsley has heard this so many times before, and he can barely even bring himself to believe anymore. Still, he smiles his approval and offers his encouragement.

…

Gilderoy's bright eyes meet Kingsley's, and there's something close to recognition there. "Kingsley," he says quietly.

Kingsley rushes forward, embracing his lover and kissing him. "I love you," he whispers.

This isn't the first good day they've had, but Kingsley still clings to it. It doesn't matter that hope is painful; he will continue believing until Gilderoy is his again.


	40. Better Days (DaphnePansy)

_Hamilton Mania, trying to fix something: Reparo (Daphne Greengrass)_

 _Disney, Someday My Prince Will Come: Write about someone dreaming of a better future._

 _Showtime, You'll Be Back: crying_

 _Sophie's Shelf, Vault 34: weapon_

 _Bumper Cars: Pansy Parkinson_

 _Ice Cream Stall: Blackberry (Pansy) and Double Chocolate Brownie (Daphne)_

 _Word Count: 341_

* * *

"Where am I supposed to go?" Daphne demands, tears falling from her eyes.

She hates that he's made her so fucking vulnerable and weak. Her mother has taught her to always be in control, to always hold her head high. But how can she when Theo has destroyed everything?

"I don't care," he says, tugging his coat on and stalking toward the door. "But I don't want you here when I return."

The door slams, causing Daphne to jump. Her body trembles, and she tries to calm herself, but she fails. Her marriage is a lie; they've both known from the start. And yet it still hurts knowing that it's over.

Daphne kneels and lifts the broken picture frame. Shattered glass falls to the floor. She doesn't remember who used it as a weapon in this fight. They have always been too volatile, and their fights have been pure chaos, impossible to track.

" _Reparo_ ," she says, and the glass pieces itself together.

Maybe there's no point. Why should she bother to fix things in a place she is no longer wanted? With a heavy sigh, she sets the newly repaired frame aside. There's only so much she can do before she has to face the inevitable; she may as well get it over with now.

…

"I have nowhere else to go," she whispers.

Pansy doesn't even hesitate before stepping aside and allowing Daphne to come inside. It doesn't matter that their days as teenage lovers are long behind them. The love is still there, and maybe it always will be.

Daphne throws her arms around Pansy, her slender body quaking with sobs.

"There there, love," Pansy murmurs. "Everything is going to be okay."

Daphne wants to believe so badly. She wants to tell herself that this is for the best, and maybe it's a second chance for her and Pansy. There will be a better future, and Theo will become just a memory.

One day.

For now, she wants to break and to know that Pansy will keep her together.


	41. Help (MarcusGinny)

_Showtime, Say No to This: asking for help_

 _Hamilton Mania, making a huge mistake: clumsy (deadly)_

 _Kissing Booth: MarcusGinny_

 _Bumper Cars: influence_

 _352 words_

* * *

Ginny is hardly surprised to find Marcus slumped against the couch, nursing a swollen wrist. Her brows raise. "Do I even want to ask?"

Her boyfriend narrows his dark eyes at her, his lips twisting into a scowl. "A little help would be nice," he mutters.

"Why didn't you heal it yourself?" she asks, kneeling beside him and casting a healing charm to mend his broken bones.

A soft pink creeps into his cheeks. "Because my wrist isn't the only thing I broke," he says, rotating his wrist before gesturing to a visibly snapped wand on the other side of the room.

Ginny raises her eyebrows. This isn't the first time she's come home to find him in an awkward position. His grace in the air on a broomstick is what made her fall in love with him, but he is terribly clumsy on solid ground. However, this is definitely the first time he's managed to break his wand.

"Please?" he sighs. "I need help."

A smirk plays at her lips. "Ooh, begging. I like it." She points her wand at his fragmented pieces. " _Reparo!_ "

Once the wand has been mended, Marcus climbs to his feet and crosses the room, grabbing the newly repaired wand. "Thanks," he says, tucking it into his pocket. "I knew I kept you around for a reason."

She rolls her eyes. Marcus has never been able to just thank anyone for helping him. She wonders if it's a Slytherin thing. "Good. I still don't know why I keep you around. You're such a deadly force, you burn everything you cook—"

He cuts her off, silencing her with a deep kiss. Ginny hates the way she melts into his touch. She is used to being so fiercely independent, never needing anyone, but there's something about him that makes her vulnerable.

"I hope you'll be a good influence on me," he says, pressing one last kiss to her forehead, "and keep me around. I like you a little bit."

Ginny swats him away, but she's grinning. At the end of the day, she likes him a little bit too.


	42. Back to You (JohnAmelia)

_Hamilton Mania, fighting a war: Auror ("There's a million things I haven't done.")_

 _Character Appreciation: Auror_

 _Showtime, Take a Break: "I know you're very busy."_

 _Amber's Attic: JohnAmelia_

 _Buttons: "Why so sad?"_

 _Sophie's Shelf, vault 68: only one female character_

 _Lo's Lowdown, Javert: Auror_

 _Prompt of the Day: St. Mungo's_

 _Balloon Wall: teal_

 _Word Count: 503_

* * *

There's a knock on her office door. "Enter," Amelia calls without looking up from her paperwork.

"I know you're very busy."

She looks up, unable to resist a smile when she sees John standing before her. "Not too busy for you."

It's amazing that they've come so far. Once, she wouldn't have even given him the time of day. Being professional had been always been her top priority. Even when she'd first started developing feelings for him, she'd forced herself to ignore them, knowing that falling in love with someone in her office was forbidden.

And here they are, months later, in love but still so careful.

"Good morning, Dawlish," she says

He adjusts his teal and grey tie. "Busy morning," he says. "Kingsley has asked me to take the lead on this raid."

Amelia's heart sinks. Being an Auror is dangerous enough, but heading a raid on a suspected dark wizard is a terrifying risk.

"Why so sad, Milly?" he asks with a grin. "I'll come back."

Though fear and worry twist her insides, she manages a smile. "You'd better."

His grin broadens, and be offers her a mock salute. "Anything for you, boss." He crosses the office and presses a quick kiss to her forehead.

"Good. Get to work."

…

She gets the news just before her lunch break. Heart racing painfully within her chest, she hurries from her office. No one stops her or questions her. Maybe they've already suspected her relationship with Dawlish, and they understand.

"St. Mungo's," she calls, stepping into the fireplace and dropping the Floo Powder.

She doesn't even hesitate when she appears in the hospital. "John Dawlish?"

The Healer glances up from his clipboard. "Madam Bones," he says brightly.

"John Dawlish," she repeats. "Where is he?"

The man looks offended by her lack of niceties, but he doesn't comment. Instead, he points. "Second room on the left."

She expects the worst and tries to prepare herself, but she's so scared. It's taken her three years to finally give in to her feelings for him. If anything happens to him…

With trembling hands, she pushes open the door. John grins at her when she enters. Most of the skin of his left arm has melted away, but she watches for a moment as new skin slowly begins to form.

"Milly! Here to visit me on my deathbed?" he calls brightly, offering her a cheeky grin.

"You aren't dying," she says dryly. "I forbid it."

John laughs and gestures her closer. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere. There's a million things I haven't done." He pauses and reaches out, taking her hand with his good one. "So I'm not going down that easily."

She leans down and kisses his forehead, relief washing over her. It doesn't matter how long she has been in this line of work; she will always worry about him.

"Don't worry," he says, his fingers tangling in her hair. He kisses her gently, smiling against her lips. "I'll always come back to you."


	43. She Said Yes (Scorose)

_Hamilton Mania, expecting a child: the Burrow (Lily Luna Potter)_

 _Showtime, Battle of Yorktown: covenant_

 _Amber's Attic: ScorpiusRose_

 _Buttons: Scorpius Malfoy_

 _Lyric Alley: My father's stone faced while you're asking for his blessing_

 _Balloon Wall: sunny_

 _Bumper Cars: teapot_

 _Word Count: 770_

* * *

i.

"I think I'm in love," Scorpius says with a sigh, a content grin on his face.

Albus rolls his eyes. "With my _cousin_?" he groans, shaking his head.

Scorpius shrugs. Maybe he should care about that. In the back of his mind, he's sure there's probably some moral code about romancing a friend's relatives. Under ordinary circumstances, it might make a difference.

Now, however, it doesn't. His eyes remain fixed upon Rose Weasley, and he can't help but hope.

ii.

"Is that your boyfriend?" Lily asks with a smirk as she sits across from Rose.

Rose doesn't have to look up to know that her cousin is glancing over at the Slytherin table. Scorpius Malfoy is a nice enough bloke, but he's spent the past three years admiring her from a distance. "No," she answers flatly.

The younger leans in, and Rose tears her attention away from her book. "Why not?" she asks. "He's cute."

Rose huffs and adjusts her tie. "There are more important things in life than being cute!"

Her cousin considers this for a moment, her full lips pursing. Lily taps a finger against her chin. "So, what's wrong with him?"

Rose opens her mouth to answer but quickly snaps it closed again, frowning. She's spent years opposed to the idea of dating Scorpius on principle, but, now that she has to actually think about it, she doesn't have an answer for it. He's nice and smart; the only defect he seems to have is his awkwardness, but Rose finds it endearing.

"Nothing," she answers at last.

iii.

It's stupid, and Scorpius knows it. He's spent five years thinking about Rose, wondering if they could have a future together. She's always ignored him and walked away, but what if…

He can't help himself. It doesn't matter that he isn't a Gryffindor, that he's about as brave as a plate of fish and chips; he has to try.

"Rose!" he calls, jogging up to her.

Lily looks at him with a smile before nudging Rose. "I'll catch up with you later," she says, her bright eyes sweeping over Scorpius. "I'm sure we'll have lots to talk about."

Rose rolls her eyes at her cousin. When Lily is gone, she turns her attention back to Scorpius. "Yes?"

Is he crazy, or is there an almost hopeful tone in that single syllable? Scorpius takes a deep breath. His hands tremble, and he wrings them together anxiously. "Will you go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?"

"I'd love to."

For a moment, all he can do is stare at her, wondering if this is some sort of joke. Her expression remains serious. "Butterbeer?" she adds.

"Y-yes." Scorpius nods. "Butterbeer. Perfect. Not that I would expect anything less. You're sort of perfect, and—"

"Right!" Albus appears out of nowhere, gripping Scorpius firmly by the arm. He nods at his cousin. "Rosie. C'mon, Scor."

"She said yes," Scorpius says, still in shock as they make their way down the corridor.

"She might have changed her mind if you kept jabbering," Albus mutters.

But Scorpius is barely listening. Rose Weasley said yes.

iv.

"Does he have to come?" her father asks. "He's a _Malfoy_."

"And he's her boyfriend of five years," her mother says sharply. "Behave, Ronald."

Rose knows her father doesn't approve of Scorpius. He probably never will. But as she and her parents make their way through the yard of the Burrow and sees Scorpius waiting there—fashionably early, as usual— bathed the warm, golden sunlight, she doesn't care.

"Rose," Scorpius says, his hand sliding into hers as places a chaste kiss on her cheek.

v.

The words spill from his mouth. Scorpius' heart races painfully, but he can't stop talking. Rose's father—and the rest of her whole bloody family, gathered for a nice family meal at the Burrow—watch him.

"And, I guess what I'm trying to say is that love Rose more than anything in this life. I will make a covenant—no, that's not the right word… promise?—right here and now that I will always love and cherish her, and… I know you don't like me, Mr. Weasley, but I love her."

His eyes meet Rose's. She sits beside Lily, teapot still lifted, though her cup is overflowing and spilling out onto the saucer.

Ron Weasley's expression is unreadable. Scorpius braces himself, waiting for the fallout. Instead, the older man nods, and accepts Scorpius' hand. "Just know that, if you hurt her, I will kill you."

"I'll deserve it."

Now that the blessing is secure, he moves closer, kneeling before Rose. "Will you marry me?"

And Rose Weasley says yes.


	44. To Tell the Truth (CormacHermione)

_Hamilton Mania, confronting someone: Veritaserum, invisible_

 _Character Appreciation: trio_

 _Showtime, Stay Alive: essay_

 _Wheel of Fortune: CormacHermione_

 _Word Count: 433_

* * *

"Oh. Hermione…"

Hermione looks up from her essay, exhaling heavily. She hates being interrupted while she's doing homework. After Harry and Ron had chosen not to come back to Hogwarts, she had dared to believe she might actually be able to study in peace.

One look at Cormac, however, tells her that this is not the case. "Cormac," she says stiffly before dipping her quill in ink and returning her attention to the first draft of her essay, looking for anything that needs to be corrected.

"I was actually hoping I wouldn't run into you," he says.

She doesn't bother to look up again. "Why not?"

"Because, I drank some Veritaserum on a dare, and you are probably the last person I should actually be around."

That definitely isn't the answer she expects. It's enough to catch her attention, and she abandons her homework. Transfiguration can wait. "Are you really that…" She trails off, pinching her nose and forcing herself not to say what she wants. "Why would you do something so ridiculous?"

"I don't like feeling invisible," he answers. "If I accept dares, people will think I'm fun."

She raises her brows, studying him. He almost sounds like a misguided Fred or George, but the twins had always managed to have some sort of structure. "Why didn't you want to see me?" she wonders aloud.

She has barely even thought of him since the disastrous attempt at making Ron jealous. It had all been for nothing, of course. After the war first ended, they had tried, but it hadn't taken long for them to discover that they're better off as friends.

"I still fancy you. I was an absolute idiot before, and I should have made some effort to keep you in my life, but I was too pretentious."

She knows he wouldn't tell her this without the Veritaserum in his system, but she can't help but smile at that. "You really were."

She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. It has been quite some time since anyone caught her eye and made her wonder like this, but she can't act on it. Even if it's just a truth serum, it feels like she would be taking advantage of his vulnerability.

"You can try to get me back into your life when the potion has worn off," she tells him, offering him a small smile.

"I will!"

And as she continues her essay, she can't help the fluttering feeling within her chest. Coming back to Hogwarts without her best friends had been terrifying, but maybe it's going to be okay.


	45. Nerves (NevilleHannah)

_Hamilton Mania, dueling: wand (Hannah)_

 _Showtime, Schuyler Defeated: newspaper_

 _324 words_

* * *

"Can you please relax?" Neville asks, looking up from the newspaper. "You're making me nervous."

Hannah wants to assure him that she is perfectly relaxed and he's just imagining things, but her throat tightens, and her words become a nonsensical squeak. Instead, she waves her wand, sending a pile of eggs to land on her husband's plate.

There's no reason to be nervous. She's spent so much time studying and learning, and she is a qualified Healer. She knows that she is more than capable of doing this job, and she's already been accepted as the new Healer at Hogwarts.

But she can't breathe. There are too many doubts in her mind, and she is all too aware of her shortcomings.

With another wave of her wand, still unable to speak, she butters the toast and sends it to the table.

Maybe she's spent too long running the Leaky Cauldron, and it's hard to let go and accept this change. Maybe it will never be easy to move forward, but she has to try.

"Tea or milk?" She's grateful her words come out clear and her voice doesn't squeak.

"Tea," he answers, waving his own wand and preparing the tea himself. "I should be the one taking care of you today. It's your first day as Healer, after all. Sit. Eat."

Hannah considers protesting, but she realizes there is nothing left to do for breakfast and takes a seat across from her husband.

"You're brilliant," Neville tells her, reaching out and tucking her blonde hair behind her ear. "There's nothing to worry about."

A smile tugs at her lips. She remembers his first day and the way his nerves had made him get sick. She had been there to comfort him. Now, the tables have turned, and she is grateful for him.

"Tell me I can do this."

"I have no doubt in my mind."

And, somehow, that's enough to chase away her fears.


	46. A Better Man (CboDudley)

_Hamilton Mania, reminiscing: Cho Chang (Dudley Dursley)_

 _Showtime, Satisfied: union_

 _Sophie's Shelf, vault 69: only one male character_

 _Insane House Challenge: "Hey, that's my shirt."_

 _303 words_

* * *

"Hey," Dudley says, frowning as recognition dawns on him, "that's my shirt."

Cho offers him a small smile, shrugging. She spins, and his shirt, which she wears like a dress, flares out. "I think it looks good on me," she says, poking her tongue out.

There's no denying that. Cho is practically a goddess—beautiful, smart, funny, athletic. Even dresses down like she is now, she looks nothing short of radiant. Dudley wonders if he'll ever be able to thank Harry enough for setting him up with Cho.

His parents had had mixed feelings about their union. After their time in hiding, they had mostly come around to accepting magic, but his father still had issues with it. In the end, only his mother had truly accepted it.

Not that he cares, really. He loves Cho more than anything, and he would gladly choose her over anything else in this world.

"You're staring," she chuckles, setting a plate of waffles down in front of him.

"Is it really surprising?" He leans up, pressing a quick kiss to his wife's cheek. "How can I not stare at _you?_ "

Cho smiles, her golden skin darkening as she blushes. "Why are you so sweet?" she asks, sitting across from him and drizzling syrup over her own waffles.

"I wasn't always."

"I find that hard to believe."

His smile fades slightly. It's amazing how far he's come. Once upon a time, he wouldn't have deserved her; he had been so terrible. In a way, it's all because of the magical world. Between the Dementors at fifteen and the year spent with Dedalus and Hestia, he's grown into someone his younger self wouldn't even recognize.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks.

Dudley looks up again, and his smile returns, brighter than ever. "How lucky I am," he answers.


	47. Insomniac Hope (BliaseDaphne)

_Hamilton Mania, work pressure: deadline (contrast)_

 _Disney, Sleepy: Write about someone with insomnia_

 _Showtime, Cabinet Battle 1: ranting_

 _Amber's Attic: BlaiseDaphne_

 _Insane House Challenge: Slytherin Common Room_

456 words

* * *

There's a clear contrast between the Daphne Greengrass Blaise knows and loves and the Daphne Greengrass he finds in the common room at four in the morning. Her eyes are shadowed, and she looks much older than her seventeen years.

"Can't sleep?"

Her green eyes focus on him for a moment before she turns her attention back to her book. "No. I'm actually asleep right now," she says dryly. "I like reading in my sleep."

Blaise shrugs. He supposes he'd walked right into that. "Fair enough," he says, sitting beside her. "Care to talk about it?"

Daphne hesitates for a moment. After several seconds, she sets her book aside and leans against Blaise, her dark curls spilling onto his shoulder. "Where do I begin?" she sighs. "Insomnia since I was a kid, made worse by stupid bloody deadlines and the Carrows' sadism. I'm falling Charms now, did I mention? Oh, sure, doesn't really matter, does it? The whole fucking world is ending, but I can't be outraged by that because I'm a _Slytherin_ , and I'm supposed to enjoy it!"

Blaise stares at her, taken aback by her rant. Astoria has always been the more vocal of the two sisters. Daphne, on the other hand, has always been quieter, opting to stay in the shadows. She is a walking enigma, always drawing him in. This is the first time she's let him—and probably anyone at all—see into her soul like this.

"I'm tired," she says, her voice softer now and laced with notes of defeat. "Not just physically. Merlin, physical exhaustion is easy to deal with. I'm mentally tired, and I feel like everything is hopeless."

Blaise wraps an arm around her, his heart hammering. He's always found her beautiful, but he's never acted on it. His reputation for being picky has always stopped him. "It's not hopeless," he says quietly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Not really."

"What if it is?"

"What if it isn't?" he counters.

Daphne laughs at that, shaking her head with an amused smirk playing at her lips. "You never really struck me as an optimist, Blaise."

"You give me hope."

Another laugh. He loves that sound and makes a silent promise to make her laugh as often as possible. "I really do need to finish this," she says, gesturing toward the book. "Deadlines and all. May as well put my insomnia to good use."

"I have a better solution," he tells her, grinning.

Daphne leans in, lightly patting his cheek. "Goodnight, Blaise," she says, grabbing her book and climbing to her feet.

He watches her go, dark eyes fixed upon the hypnotic sway of her hips. He's making progress. Maybe it's slow progress, but he'll take whatever he can get.


	48. Butterbeer & Exhaustion(AberforthPoppy)

_Showtime, I Know Him: laughing_

 _Hamilton Mania, grief: Healer (cloak)_

 _Insane House Challenge: butterbeer_

 _Word Count: 379_

* * *

"You look exhausted," Aberforth notes.

Poppy can't help but laugh. Exhausted barely begins to describe how she feels. She's been wide awake since the battle had started, and now, hours after its end, she is still awake. "Horribly," she confirms.

"Thought you might be." He lifts a glass of butterbeer, offering her small smile. "Figured I'd bring you a little pick me up."

Poppy feels relief wash over her as she accepts the glass, drinking the warm golden sweetness. It's tempting to down it all in one gulp, but she resists. Her services are needed here, and the last thing she needs is to get an upset stomach. "Thank you," she says, taking another sip.

Aberforth nods, removing his cloak and draping it over the nearest chair. "Do you need anything else, dear?" he asks.

Her heart melts at that. So many people have called Aberforth strange and eccentric, but she's always found him to be kind and gentle. Loving him had been easy enough. How can anyone resist when he's so quick to care for the ones he loves?

Poppy shakes her head. "You need to rest," she tells him. "Go."

His raises his bushy brows with an amused smirk. "Rest?" he echoes as she drains the last few swallows of her drink. "You're one to talk. I'll rest when you rest."

"Not an option for me," she points out. "St. Mungo's is damn near overflowing, and I'm having to treat those I can."

She sets her glass aside and gestures at the chaos of the hospital wing. Beds are all full. Some of the wounded have to sit in chairs or lay on blankets spread across the floor. Students rush from bed to bed, tending to the wounded where they are needed.

"I get the feeling it will be a while before I can rest."

Aberforth presses a kiss to her forehead. "In that case, I'll be back."

"Back? Off to sleep?" she asks, surprised that the stubborn man could give in so easily.

"Back with sandwiches and drinks for you and the helpers," he says. "Can't have you healing others when you're about to collapse from hunger."

She watches as he leaves, laughing softly to herself. Aberforth will never fail to amaze her with his kindness.


	49. By the Sea (TeddyVictoire)

_Showtime, Blow Us All Away: Teddy Lupin_

 _Lyric Alley: Laughing at my sister 'cause she wants to form a harem_

 _Word Count: 324_

* * *

"Why does Dominique keep looking at me?" Teddy asks as he and Victoire walk along the shore.

Victoire doesn't even have to glance over her shoulder at her sister. She's more than a little short that had been everyone's first crush. Dominique, though she prefers girls, hasn't quite grown out of her Teddy phase. "She asked last night if I thought you would be opposed to a harem," she says, laughing.

The rich pink that creeps into his cheeks at that is delightful. Teddy is such a Hufflepuff, so good and pure. "A harem?" he echoes.

Victoire grins, shrugging her slender shoulders before kicking her sandals off and letting the gentle waves crash against her bare skin. "You could have quite an impressive harem," she says, leaning in and playfully bumping her elbow against his stomach. "All the Potter-Weasley girls are half in love with you. Louis too."

His blush deepens, and Victoire bites back a laugh. She knows she shouldn't take this much pleasure in watching his cheeks turn red, but it's too adorable.

"Just something to consider."

"I don't want that." Teddy's voice is barely above a whisper and so gentle that Victoire almost isn't sure if he's spoken at all. He clears his throat and speaks louder. "I don't want a harem."

"Really? Most teen boys would love to have a flock of women to adore him."

"I only want you."

Victorie comes to a stop, her blue eyes wide and jaw slack. She doesn't know why she is so surprised. As long as she can remember, she and Teddy have been flirting with one another. Everyone around them has always said it would be a matter of time before they finally fell in love. If she's honest, she's been in love with him since she was eight.

She reaches out and pulls him close, standing on her tiptoes and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "You can have me."


	50. Ice Cream and Comfort(Wolfstar)

_Prompt of the Day: Remus Lupin_

 _Bumper Cars: conscious_

 _Insane House Challenge:_ ice cream

 _Slots: Remus, perfection, joy_

 _Word Count: 413_

* * *

"Oh. Good. You're conscious."

With a groan, Remus rubs his eyes. The morning after the full moon is always hell, and this is no exception. Every inch of his body aches, and his stomach has twisted into a thousand knots. Though his vision is blurry, be turns his attention that familiar voice, and a smile tugs at his lips.

Sirius grins at him, lifting a bowl of ice cream. "Want a bite?" he asks. "Chocolate."

As good as chocolate sounds, the thought of eating makes Remus want to throw up. He shakes his head, covering his mouth and swallowing down the stomach acid that burns his insides. "That is definitely not a healthy breakfast," he says.

Sirius shrugs, stirring the ice cream absently before scooping some into his mouth. He lets out a happy sigh, his face bright with joy. "Breakfast of champions," he says, lifting the bowl to his lips and slurping the contents so loudly that Remus is surprised Madam Pomfrey doesn't rush in to throw him out.

Remus chuckles before wincing. With another groan, he lays back, sinking into the plush pillows, his eyes closing.

"You okay?" his boyfriend asks.

He doesn't look, opting to just nod. "I feel like absolute troll vomit."

"Well, you look nothing short of perfection."

Remus' lips twist into a grin. He doesn't know how Sirius does it, but somehow his boyfriend never fails to bring him joy. The exhaustion and sadness give way until he feels nothing but bliss.

"Why are you so good to me?" Remus asks, finally opening his eyes again.

Sirius climbs to his feet and walks over, sitting on the edge of the bed. His slender fingers brush through Remus' hair. "Am I really good to you?" he asks curiously. "I just treat you the way you deserve to be treated."

Remus blinks rapidly, promising himself he won't cry. He's spent most of his life thinking he will forever be an outcast. He is used to judgment and fear, not kindness and care.

"Thank you," Remus whispers. "Thank you for loving me."

Sirius leans in and presses a kiss to Remus' lips. "It comes naturally. That's like thanking me for breathing."

Remus takes Sirius' hand, smiling. There are days where he still feels like a monster, like his dark secret is his only identity. Then there are moments like this, and he thinks maybe he's okay, maybe there's hope for him after all.

He never wants to lose this feeling.


	51. Live (HelgaRowena)

_Assignment 1, Astronomy task 2: Write about one or more of the Hogwarts Founders_

 _Tattoo Booth: Founders era, picking flowers, bliss_

 _Insane House Challenge: HelgaRowena_

 _Word Count: 546_

* * *

It's moments like these that Rowena knows she is in love with Helga. They stroll along the grounds together, and Helga hurries ahead, her blue eyes bright with excitement as she stops to pick flower after flower. Rowena cannot remember the last time she's allowed herself to give in to such simple pleasures and be carefree; her days are so often spent in her chambers, poring over her books.

"Here we are," Helga says, her skilled fingers weaving the stems of the flowers together until they form a sort of wreath. She holds it up, placing it atop Rowena's dark, cascading curls. "A crown for my queen."

The blush that heats Rowena's cheeks is unbearable. She looks away, hoping Helga doesn't notice the pink staining her olive skin. "I am hardly a queen, my love," she says with a soft chuckle.

Helga pulls her closer, tucking her finger under Rowena's chin and guiding her gaze until their eyes meet. "Must you be so serious, dear Rowena?" she sighs, caressing Rowena's cheek with her fingertips. "Life is such a beautiful thing; I would hate for you to miss out on it because you're…" She trails off, clearing her throat. Her cheeks glow with rosy embarrassment. "Right. Well, perhaps you could just enjoy it."

Rowena's blush is almost maddening now. It feels as though fire has scorched her face. "I _do_ enjoy life," she says.

Helga offers her a kind smile before continuing her stroll, continuing to collect a fresh bouquet of wildflowers as she walks. Rowena stands there, watching her lover put more and more distance between them. She doesn't understand what Helga means or why she doesn't believe that Rowena enjoys life. Just because Rowena finds more pleasure in intellectual pursuits doesn't mean she isn't living; it simply means she has found her own way to achieve bliss.

She can't help. Something about Helga's words gets under her skin, and she cannot shake them.

 _Perhaps you should just enjoy it._

It almost feels like a challenge. Rowena bunches up her skirt so that it doesn't drag as she quickens her pace to catch up with her lover. "I can enjoy life too!" she says, releasing her skirt and freeing her hands. She begins plucking flowers, breaking their stems in her hurry. "See?"

"Are you actually enjoying yourself?" Helga asks dryly, her brows raised.

Rowena pauses, looking at the bouquet of flowers. "No," she admits.

"You don't have to prove yourself all the time, my love." Helga closes the distance between them and takes the bouquet from Rowena. "I said enjoy life, not conquer it."

Rowena purses her lips. For several moments, she can't find anything to say. Her eyes rest upon her lover, and she relaxes slightly. It should be easy to enjoy life when she has Helga by her side. Truly, Helga has made her days noticeably brighter.

She reaches out and plucks a yellow flower from the bouquet before tucking it behind Helga's ear, admiring the way it stands out against her blonde curls. "I think I have found my bliss in you."

And as they walk along, she can feel the clear change. Her worries begin to melt and fade, and the world seems like a happier place with Helga by her side.


	52. Warmth (RabastanUmbridge)

_Ice Cream Stall: Maple Syrup and Peach Melba (RabastanUmbridge)_

 _Angel's Arcade, Riku: silver, "You made me a promise.", darkness, change, mistrust_

 _Insane House Challenge: He listened to the sound of the clock._

 _321 words_

* * *

He listens to the sound of the clock. There's a comfort in the steady ticking that Rabastan has always loved. It's soothing, a constant reminder that he is still alive, despite the hell he'd faced in Azkaban.

"Rabastan?" Dolores' sweet voice fills the air. "Come back to bed, dear."

"My feet were cold," he murmurs, holding up the pair of socks he had fetched.

It isn't a complete lie. His feet _are_ cold. But it isn't actually that urgent.

There are some nights where the change is too much. He doesn't know how to handle freedom, and it is so suffocating. It's easy to mistrust his own comfort, and he seems to be permanently on edge, always waiting for the darkness to find him again, waiting for the Dementors' cruel chill to burrow into his bones.

"Hem hem!" He doesn't even realize she's gotten out of bed until her fingers brush through his dark hair. "There are other ways to protect you from the cold, dear."

She drops her hand to his arm, curling her pudgy fingers around his wrist. "You made me a promise," she says. "I visited you in prison, and you said if you ever got out, you would keep my bed warm at night."

He blushes at the memory. Though he doesn't remember much about the dark days, only that Dolores' visits had been his only reprieve from the pain. Even now, her company has been his only real comfort. The war is still waging, and he is still fighting; the world is still ending. But Dolores, for all her faults, is there. She is warm and steady, and he loves her.

She leads him back to bed, and he climbs beneath the pink satin sheets. Dolores lays beside him, and her snores fill the air within seconds. Rabastan's eyes flicker toward the window, at the silvery moon.

He is free. He is loved. Nothing else matters.


	53. I Want to Be (JamesiiAstoria)

_Ice Cream Stall: James II/Astoria_

 _Insane House Challenge: "Need U"- Duke Dumont_

395 words

* * *

In his twenty years on this earth, James Sirius Potter has done his fair share of stupid things. Falling in love with his friend's mother tops the list.

He doesn't mean to. Astoria Malfoy is just that gorgeous. It begins as an innocent crush, but it doesn't take long for it to grow into more.

…

He finds his opportunity when he sees the divorce announcement in the Daily Prophet. Draco and Astoria Malfoy have decided to end their marriage.

Immediately, James hurries to the mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles in his neat yellow shirt. He takes special care as he styles his hair. His dad can pull off the messy hair look so naturally, but James is cursed; it takes ten minutes to perfect the devilishly handsome, carefree hair. But it's worth it.

In the back of his mind, he knows this is a bad idea.

But he doesn't care.

He can be exactly what Astoria needs. He just hopes she'll let him try.

…

She is hesitant at first, but it doesn't take long for her to open up. She clings to him, and it makes him feel amazing, like he has really accomplished something.

"I don't know what to do," she whispers.

"We'll figure it out."

…

He doesn't want to be a rebound. That sort of life is boring, and he's done that for too many girls as a teenager.

He wants to really mean something to her. There are so many things he can do for her, and he is grateful that she lets him.

…

"It isn't fair to you," Astoria tells him, nervously tugging at her dark hair. "We can't even be public. Between the divorce and…" She trails off with a frharrared groan, wringing her hands together.

James knows. He's thought about the issues so many times. Their love is scandalous, and he can't even begin to imagine the fallout.

But he doesn't care. They have something real, and that's enough for him.

"I only need you," he says, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. "You're all that matters. Cross my heart."

She pulls back, a smile on her lips. "I love you."

He's tried so hard to be everything for her, and it seems that he has succeeded. _Love_. The word seems to wrap around him, and he feels completely giddy.

"I love you too."


	54. Magical Evening (DudleyOliver)

_Ice Cream Stall: OliverDudley_

 _Word Count: 459_

* * *

Dudley hates himself for feeling so nervous, but it's hard not to. After he's spent years giving his cousin hell, why would Harry do something nice for him? This blind date is probably just a clever guise, and payback is inevitable. What sort of humiliation does Harry have planned for him?

"Dudley?"

He looks up, and he forgets how to speak. The man standing before him his absolutely gorgeous. Chocolate puppy dog eyes with long lashes, short and neatly styled hair, and a crooked grin that could make anyone melt.

"Oliver Wood," the man says, his eyes moving over Dudley's body. "I'm a friend of your cousin's."

Maybe Harry is looking out for him after all.

…

"Harry says you're an athlete?" Oliver says as their waiter brings their entrees.

Dudley nods. He hates how giddy he feels. He's used to being in control, but Oliver is so alluring. It's hard not to look away. "I, uh, I box," he answers proudly.

"Yes. Harry explained it to me. The Muggle thing where they punch one another," Oliver says, and the smile on his lips makes it obvious that he's proud of himself for his knowledge. "I'm a professional Quidditch player. Keeper for Puddlemere."

Dudley doesn't know what Quidditch is exactly. He's sure that his cousin has mentioned it before, but it seems that it hasn't stuck. All he can do is smile and say, "I'll be you _are_ a keeper."

He thinks he's so clever. Oliver cracks a polite smile. Of course he's heard that a million times before.

"How's your steak?" Oliver asks.

"Delicious."

…

Dudley hates that the night has to end. Oliver walks him home, and everything feels so right, like they've been meant to find one another since the dawn of time. Oliver tells him about Quidditch and his time at Hogwarts. Once, it would have scared Dudley away, but now he clings to every word, so eager to be part of that world.

Dudley tells him about his own life. University is mess. He doesn't know what he wants to do and where to go. But Oliver listens, and it makes Dudley feel like he actually matters.

"I don't want to say goodnight," Dudley admits, and color burns his cheeks.

"Me neither," Oliver agrees.

He wants to invite Oliver up, but his father might lose his mind. Some days, it isn't even worth the fight.

"I have a match this weekend," Oliver tells him. "Would you like to come? We can have drinks at mine after."

"I'd love to."

Oliver leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. Dudley smiles. It's the first time he's ever truly seen the appeal of the wizarding world; he never wants to lose that feeling of magic.


	55. Beautiful Dreamer (MarcusLuna)

_Ice Cream Stall: Toffee/Tiramisu_

 _Insane House Challenge: stickers_

 _Bumper Cars: scissors_

 _Prompt of the Day: indifference_

* * *

The living room is in disarray when Marcus comes home. He folds his arms over his chest, watching in amusement as his wife glides scissors over the brightly colored paper, forming strange patterns he doesn't recognize. "What's this?" he asks.

Luna turns her attention to him, her wide eyes softening with fondness. She holds up a weirdly shaped bit of paper that has been covered in sparkly stickers that seem to form scales. "It's a Marshtoad," she explains brightly.

Marcus nods. He doesn't know what she's on about. Really, he never does. Luna is strange and bizarre, but it's her belief in the impossible that brought them together.

He still remembers those first days after the war. He had shown nothing but indifference as the others looked at him in disgust. Even though he hadn't fought, even though he had stayed neutral through it all, they had looked at him as though he is the enemy.

But Luna hadn't. She had been the first to smile at him, to offer him something other than indifference. Even when the world told her that he is a bad man who deserves nothing but misery, she taken his hand and told him he's worth so much more.

"I wanted to make something nice for the nursery," she continues, climbing to her feet.

His eyes rest upon her swollen, pregnant belly, and he smiles. They have come such a long way. She has been so good to him, and now he knows she will be an amazing mother to their child.

With a grin, he moves closer, taking the cut-out from her and setting it aside. He wraps his arms around her, kissing her forehead.

"You don't think it's silly?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "I hope our child is like you."

Luna is good. The world needs more people like her.


	56. Serendipity (HagridWalburga)

_Ice Cream Stall: Birthday Cake/Plum_

 _Insane House Challenge: being stood up on a date_

 _Word Count: 330_

* * *

Walburga feels ridiculous. She should have known this would happen. Even though Orion is her betrothed, he still doesn't love her—not that she actually loves him, but this is a terrible blow to her ego.

She looks around the coffee shop, but it's still empty. The waitress comes back by, and Walburga sends her away with a scowl.

Orion should be here. They had made plans. Even if their future marriage is a sham, they still have to keep up appearances. This date should have meant something to him. She doesn't know why it hurts so much to learn that he truly doesn't care.

"I think he's a ruddy fool."

Walburga looks up, surprised to see Rubeus Hagrid there. He's a large boy, and she doesn't know how she has failed to notice him until. With a sniff, she turns pointedly away. "I don't recall asking for your opinion," she says sharply.

"Well, pardon me. But it's just like me dad always says—"

"I don't care what your father says," she snaps. "Shoo! Orion will be here any minute."

"He won't. Saw 'im sneaking off with Viana Greengrass, I did."

She's always suspected as much, but that doesn't make the confirmation sting any less. Walburga starts to climb to her feet, but Rubeus sits across from her, and she hesitates.

"Ruddy fool. Dunno why he would leave such a lovely girl waiting."

Walburga blushes. She's well aware that this is ridiculous. Nothing can come from this. At the end of the day, she is still a Black, and she has a duty to marry Orion.

But there's no denying that Rubeus is charming enough, even if he is a clumsy, bumbling oaf. There's something attractive about him, and he is the kindest person she's ever met.

The waitress comes back around.

"Coffee, black," Rubeus says. "And whatever she's having."

"Coffee, cream and two sugars."

Maybe her day hasn't turned out the way she'd planned, but things are looking brighter already.


	57. Vanilla-Scented Confessions(PercyPenny)

_Potions, task 2: Write about a canon pairing_

 _Auction: prefects bathroom_

 _Character Appreciation: trio era_

 _Crafty Corner, Needles: Write a het pairing_

 _Amber's Attic, traditional: Write a fic set on/in the water_

 _Count Your Buttons: freckles_

 _Tearoom: scarlet_

 _Word Count: 757_

* * *

She loves the solitude that comes with the prefects' bathroom. Though there are periods during the day when it's crowded and busy, Penelope is clever. She has learned the best times to come here.

She alone, with only the stained glass mermaid portrait for company. Smiling to herself, Penelope wades through the enormous tub, relishing the way the warm water splashes against her skin with each step. Her long, dark curls touch the water, fanning out as she comes to a stop in front of the taps.

This is another reason she enjoys the peace and quiet of these moments. If others were around, they would try to take control of the little extras. But now Penelope doesn't have to ask permission before turning the knob and spilling lavender oil into the water. A second knob fills the tub with vanilla-scented bubbles that perfume the air.

She rests against the side of the tub, anchoring her in place as she happily kicks her legs out.

"Sorry! Didn't realize anyone was here!"

The sudden interruption startles her. Without even thinking, Penelope releases the side and slips underneath the bubbly water. She emerges, sputtering and wiping her face, trying to keep soap out of her eyes.

"Are you okay?" The voice is closer now.

Penelope carefully opens her eyes, still wary of the bubbles dripping down her face. Her vision is blurry at first, but she would recognize that red hair anywhere. Out of everyone else who could show up, of course it would be Percy Weasley. She doesn't know which is stronger: her embarrassment at being startled by him and nearly drowning, or the excitement of being alone with the boy she's fancied since second year.

"I'm fine," she murmurs, blinking rapidly until her vision clears. She offers him a shy smile. "Sorry for worrying you."

Percy's cheeks darken to a scarlet so deep it seems to swallow his freckles. "I, um… I'll leave you alone," he murmurs, gesturing in her general direction while pointedly shifting his gaze to the ceiling.

It takes Penelope a moment to understand his awkwardness. She _is_ naked, though, given the thick foam of the sweetly scented bubbles, the most scandalous things he can see are her bare shoulders and collarbones. "You don't have to," she says before she can stop herself.

It's a ridiculous offer. Judging by the way her face burns, she imagines her cheeks have reddened to a shade that can rival Percy's blush.

Penelope isn't the type of girl who just invites boys to join her for a bath. Still, she reasons that it's innocent. It isn't as though she's just trying to see him naked; he had been about to get a bath anyway.

Percy's blush deepens. He awkwardly adjusts his glasses. "I… I really… You know, it's fine. I need to work on Professor Lockhart's—"

"I want you to join me."

For a moment, he's speechless. Penelope stares at him, wondering if she's made him uncomfortable. Finally, after a long stretch of silence, he takes his glasses off before pulling off his shirt. A smile plays at Penelope's lips as she admires the view. He is scrawny, but she doesn't mind; his beautiful mind is much more appealing.

He strips down, though she notices he keeps his underwear on. Good. She might actually lose her nerve if he gets completely naked.

"I really like vanilla," he says, stepping into the tub. "It makes me think of you."

"Me?" This surprises her. Vanilla is her favorite scent, but for it to remind him of her is baffling. Does that mean he thinks about her?

"You always smell like vanilla," he explains, reaching out and plucking his glasses from the floor and returning them to rest upon his nose. "I like it."

He _has_ noticed her. Penelope's smile stretches into a satisfied grin. "Is it just the scent you like?" she asks, moving closer. When there's no answer, she adds, "Or do you maybe like me?"

"Both," Percy admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

Penelope rests a hand on his arm and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. "Good," she says. "I like you too."

She doesn't know what will come from these confessions, but it doesn't matter. As she and Percy relax in the water, chatting away and enjoying each other's company late into the night, she falls a little bit more. Judging by the way his eyes brighten a little more as the evening wears on, she's more than a little certain he's falling too.


	58. Made Brave By Love(ChoGabrielle)

_Character Appreciation: "Let me just finish this chapter."_

 _Disney, "Practically perfect in every way."_

 _Showtime, Two By Two: France_

 _Amber's Attic: getting a tattoo_

 _Sophie's Shelf: ChoGabrielle_

 _Angel's Arcade, Jax: grey, "Trust me.", only one male character_

 _Chocolate, citrus: sunny_

 _Amazing women: click of high heels on hard floor_

 _Gryffindor trait: bravery_

 _Word Count: 520_

* * *

It's another sunny day in Paris, and Cho sits outside, sipping her coffee and reading while enjoying the warmth. Her peace and silence don't last long. Gabrielle appears before her, sitting at the table.

"I 'ave a wonderful surprise for you," the younger witch announces excitedly.

"Let me just finish this chapter," Cho murmurs.

Her girlfriend huffs. Cho doesn't bother to look up. She knows that if she does, Gabrielle will be wearing that irresistible pout that never fails to turn Cho's resolve to putty.

"You can finish later," Gabrielle says. "I 'ave a date planned for us!"

Cho raises her brows. She isn't complaining, but it's rare that they have daytime dates. For the most part, their romantic endeavors are limited to candlelit dinners and moonlit strolls. "A date?"

But the younger woman doesn't answer. She simply smirks and presses a finger to her lips, as though it's some great secret.

Cho sighs, but she gives in. It's nearly impossible to say no to Gabrielle. "Where are we going?" she asks, setting her book aside and climbing to her feet.

"Trust me."

And Cho does.

…

She doesn't expect to find herself outside a tattoo parlor. A nervous laugh spills from her lips as she looks at her girlfriend. "What's this?"

"You were saying just 'ze o'zer day 'zat you wanted a tattoo," Gabrielle says sweetly, offering her a soft smile. "'Ere we are."

It's true enough. Cho _does_ want a tattoo. But this is almost overwhelming. It's such a sweet gesture, but she's afraid.

Gabrielle takes her hand. "It's okay," she says. "I will be 'ere for you."

Cho swallows dryly, nodding. Her girlfriend's smile brightens, and she opens the door and leads the way, her high heels clicking against tile floor. Cho follows behind, trying to ignore the way she trembles from nerves. She stands there as Gabrielle speaks in French to a man with grey and black ink designs along his arms.

"'E says to sit."

Cho obeys. She can't believe she's really doing this. A laugh bubbles from her throat. She's never been very impulsive, always insisting that there's no way she would ever survive in Gryffindor. But here she is, made brave by love, and getting a tattoo. What has her life become.

"What am I getting?" she asks.

"I 'zink you will like what I 'ave chosen," Gabrielle answers, kissing her cheek. "Are you scared?"

Cho shakes her head. Everything seems to fade away as she looks at her girlfriend. She's so caught up in the younger woman's beauty that she barely even notices the man lifting her sleeve and sanitizing her arm.

She is ready.

..

"Well?"

Cho can't take her eyes off the eagle. It is fresh and swollen, and though the color is interrupted by droplets of blood, it is beautiful, so whimsical and free and somehow very feminine.

"Practically perfect in every way," she answers.

Gabrielle grins and stands on her tiptoes and presses a gentle kiss to Cho's lips. "I 'ear 'zey are addictive," she says.

"Why don't you have any?"

Gabrielle shrugs. "I am already addicted to you."


	59. Here is Love(NevilleHannahSusan)

_Love in Motion: NevilleHannahSusan_

 _365: bedtime_

 _Insane House Challenge: Here is Love_

 _Showtime, Man Up: you_

 _Amber's Attic, New School: Write about someone or something childish_

 _Count Your Buttons: "I really wish you weren't here right now."_

 _Arcade, Quan Chi: darkness, emerald green, "Believe what you will."_

 _Word Count: 342_

* * *

Hannah sits on the bed, smiling to herself. Once, bedtime had been a simple afraid. All she had to do was change into her pajamas and curl up next to her boyfriend. Now that they've included Susan in their relationship, though, it has become nothing short of chaotic.

"You kiss me!" Neville insists. "There is no difference between that and me using your toothbrush!"

"When I kiss you," Susan says flatly, following Neville into the bedroom, "I'm not using my tongue to get all the little spaces between your teeth! It's disgusting!"

Neville groans, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "I really wish you weren't here right now!"

"Tough!" Susan says irritably as she climbs into bed next to Hannah, her eyes narrowing at Neville. "I live here too! Tell him, Hannah!"

Hannah shakes her head, smoothing out a crease in her emerald green pajamas. "Don't you dare drag me into your childish bickering," she says flatly.

That causes both of her partners to fall silent. Neville and Susan wear identical masks of confusion.

"Childish?" Neville asks, round cheeks blushing a pale pink as he climbs into bed on Hannah's other side.

"Believe what you will. We aren't being childish!" Susan says.

Hannah doesn't bother to argue. It doesn't matter how ridiculous her lovers are or how often Neville and Susan fight like cats and dogs over the most ridiculous things before running to Hannah and expecting her to smooth things over and play referee.

She's never been happier than she is now. When all is said and done, she has two partners who mean the world to her and fill her days with endless joy and wonder.

"I love you," she tells them before kissing each one gently, smiling as they say it back.

Neville waves his wand, casting a quick spell to snuff the candle and plunge the room into total darkness. Hannah curls up, her heart fluttering when Neville and Susan cuddle against her.

Theirs is a strange and unconventional love, but Hannah wouldn't trade it for the world.


	60. Bedtime (RemusHermione)

_Love in Motion: RemusHermione_

 _Character Appreciation: studious_

 _Disney, "That's a piecrust promise. Easily made, easily broken."_

 _Trope of the Month, crossgen: Hermione_

 _Auction: Hermione_

 _Word Count: 352_

* * *

Remus isn't surprised to find Hermione in her study well after midnight. She is so caught up in her book that she doesn't even seem to hear him when he enters. For several moments, Remus just stands there quietly, a soft smile on his lips as he watches his girlfriend scribble notes across her parchment.

Finally, he clears his throat, getting her attention.

"Nearly done," she assures him, tucking her mess of bushy curls behind her ear and returning her attention to the book.

"That's what you said—" His tawny eyes flicker to the polished mahogany clock on the wall. "—two hours ago. Bed."

"I'll be there in a bit. I promise."

Remus' lips twist into an amused grin. This isn't the first time they've had this same discussion. It doesn't matter that she already has the job at the Ministry, she always has to push herself. He's fairly convinced that Hermione has read damn near every book and page dealing with cooperation between magical communities.

And yet it's the same thing almost every night. Hermione stays up and exhausts herself, trying study and obtain more and more knowledge, never seeming to be satisfied. In the morning, as with most mornings, she'll brew a pot of strong coffee, and there will be more caffeine than blood flowing through her veins.

"Bed," Remus sighs, moving closer and gently pulling her to her feet.

Hermione huffs. "Soon. I promise."

"That's a piecrust promise," he says, leading her away from the desk. "Easily made, easily broken."

His girlfriend still protests and they walk down the hall, but her words are interrupted again and again by yawns. Remus tries to hide his satisfaction when he smirks. Hermione is too stubborn sometimes.

"I'm not tired," she grumbles, once again betrayed by a yawn.

Remus guides her into the bedroom, closing the door behind them. "And yet, I'll bet you'll be asleep within five minutes of your head hitting the pillow."

She scowls but shrugs before climbing into bed and pulling the blanket over herself.

Her soft snores fill the air before Remus even turns the light out.


	61. Lead (LeeAngelina)

_Love in Motion: LeeAngelina_

 _Character Appreciation: Quidditch captain_

 _Disney, Winifred Banks: Write about a woman in power_

 _Showtime, Turn it Off: "Crush it."_

 _Emporium, Sophie: Write about an absolute boss_

 _Film festival: "We won!"_

 _Word Count: 402_

* * *

"I'm gonna puke," Angelina says, clutching her stomach and drawing several deep breaths.

Lee doesn't move at first. By now, he is all too familiar with this scene. Angelina had been a nervous wreck at Hogwarts when she'd made the Quidditch team. When she'd been accepted as a reserve Chaser for Falmouth, she had sworn up and down that she would faint. Now, after years of hard work and becoming a permanent member of the team, she's got the same nervousness before her first match as captain.

"You might want to breathe," he says patiently, offering her a crooked grin.

"I _am_ breathing," she snaps.

"You're hyperventilating," Lee tells he. "There's a difference."

For a moment, all she can do is glare at him. Lee waits. As expected, her annoyance with him seems to be greater than her nerves.

"What do you do to your competition?" he asks.

Angelina's dark eyes flash, and her lips tug into a grin. "Crush it."

"And that's why you're going to lead the Falcons to victory. You've got this. I believe in you."

Her smile falters slightly, but she keeps her head high. It's one of the many reasons he fell in love with her. "I've got this," she agrees, nodding.

She grabs her broomstick and closes the distance between them. "For good luck?"

With a laugh, Lee kisses his girlfriend's cheek.

…

There's something exciting about watching his girlfriend dominate the match. Lee watches, throat raw from cheering Angelina on, as she takes charge, leading her team and giving orders all while handling the Quaffle so majestically.

She is a natural born leader. He still remembers Oliver entrusting her with the Gryffindor Quidditch team. She had proven to be an amazing captain then, and it seems like she's only grown more fierce as time has gone by.

"Go, Ang, go!"

He's never seen anyone do the things she does, and he grins proudly. There's no denying that his girlfriend is extraordinary.

...

"We won!" Angelina throws arms around him, holding him close and grinning.

"I know. I was there," Lee chuckles.

"I didn't screw up!"

"I keep trying to tell you how amazing you are," he reminds her, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. "Maybe you'll start to listen to me."

"Maybe."

Surrounded by cheering fans, damn near intoxicated by the adrenaline and joy, he wraps an arm around his incredible girlfriend. "Let's go home."


	62. Headmistress of His Heart(DracoMinerva)

_Love in Motion, Crack: DracoMinerva_

 _Disney, George Banks: Write about an overworked character_

 _Trope of the Month, crossgen: "Are you for real?"_

 _Showtime, Hasa Diga Eebowai: blasphemy_

 _Em's Emporium, Lin: set at Hogwarts_

 _Auction: "I think it's time I told you… I love you. Always have."_

 _Word Count: 429_

* * *

Draco Malfoy has never considered himself even remotely brave. Upon arriving at Hogwarts all those years ago, he had known that Gryffindor would be the last House he would ever be Sorted into.

But now there's a certain boldness that comes with being a professor. Draco doesn't understand where it comes from or why, but he doesn't question it. Though it seems like a great blasphemy to admit, maybe he has a little lion within him.

At least that's what he tells himself as he enters the Headmistress' office. The alternative—that he has lost his fucking mind and has finally been driven insane—is not an option.

"Professor?"

Minerva McGonagall looks up at him from the mountain of paperwork stacked upon her desk. When her eyes meet his, he forgets how to speak.

"I've told you to call me Minerva now," she says, her tired gaze returning to whatever letter or memo is next in the seemingly endless pile. "You _are_ a professor now too."

"Right… Are you for real? It's not inappropriate?" he asks, his cheeks burning with color.

"I'm sure," she says dryly, still focusing on her work.

Draco watches the older woman for a moment. He wonders if she ever takes a break. It seems like she's always so bloody busy with work, as though it consumes every aspect of her life.

Minerva clears her throat. "Is there something you needed, Draco?"

"Yes, actually…"

She finally looks at him again, and Draco can see the exhaustion in her eyes. Her thin lips tug into a hard line, and she makes an impatient sound.

"I think it's time I told you... " Draco takes a deep breath, wringing his hands together nervously. He takes a deep breath. "I love you. Always have."

Silence, he decides, is good. At least she isn't screaming at him or demanding that he leave her study immediately. He'll consider that a good omen.

"Draco, I'm not sure what you're playing at, but you are too old for such silly jokes," she says. "I'm very—"

"It's not a joke. I've fancied you for a long time, Minerva. Please… One date? I swear I won't disappoint you."

"Draco—"

"You work too much. Just come out. Have a drink with me," he insists. "Let your hair down. Figuratively, of course. I like your bun."

Now, he isn't sure that he likes the silence so much. Minerva stares at him with an unreadable expression, and Draco can't do anything but hope.

"One drink. Tomorrow night after dinner," she says at last, resuming her work. "Hog's Head."

And as he leaves her office, grinning from ear to ear, he can't help thinking how lucky he is.


	63. Like Riding a Bike (DudleyPiers)

_Auction: slash_

 _Crafty Corner, yarn: Write about someone learning something new._

 _Showtime, Baptize Me: doing something for the first time_

 _Count Your Buttons: bicycle_

 _Film festival: "I'm so proud of you."_

 _Tearoom: Privet Drive_

 _Word Count: 432_

* * *

They're sitting there, enjoying the peace and quiet of the afternoon when his secret slips. Piers' cheeks burn a deep red, and he hates the way Dudley looks at him like he's sprouted a second head.

"Stop doing that," Piers grumbles, rubbing his palm over the back of his neck. "It's really not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" Dudley counters. "You may as well tell me you're actually from Mars."

That makes Piers feel even worse. He had believed he isn't the only one. Surely others out there have the same drawbacks?

"That doesn't make me an alien," Piers huffs, brown eyes narrowing. "There are loads of people who don't know how to ride bikes!"

With a roll of his bright eyes, Dudley grabs Piers' wrist, jumping up and pulling Piers to his feet. Without another word, Dudley drags him quickly along. Piers shouts a quick greeting at Mrs. Dursley, who is at the window, spying on the neighbors, but she barely even acknowledges him.

"Okay," his boyfriend says when they're outside, finally releasing Piers' wrist in favor of grabbing his bicycle. "I promise it's easy."

Piers hesitates, staring at the pedals and handlebars in mute horror. It looks anything but easy. "Do I have to?"

In place of an answer, Dudley lets the kickstand up, carefully balancing it with one hand. With his free hand, he gently guides Piers along until he's seated upon the bike seat. Piers' heartbeat quickens. He tries to tell himself that it's not big deal, that he can do this, but he isn't so sure.

"You've for this," Dudley murmurs, leaning in and stealing a quick, chaste kiss. "I believe in you."

Piers doesn't quite believe in himself, but Dudley's faith is enough. He takes a deep breath as Dudley helps him along.

And then Dudley lets go, and Piers is wobbly and afraid, but he somehow has this. His heart feels like it might explode as his skinny legs pump, propelling him forward.

"Brake!" Dudley calls. "Brake!"

Piers doesn't know what to do. His legs work uselessly, and he panics until he hits a shrub headfirst.

Dudley is there within seconds, grinning at him. "I'm so proud of you," he says, helping Piers to his feet.

"Why? I fucked up," Piers groans.

"I should have told you how to brake before letting you go." Dudley shrugs. "But you did it! You rode a bike!"

Piers still doesn't think it's a big deal. But the way Dudley looks at him like he's done something amazing is enough for Piers to feel like he's special.


	64. Get Well Soon (LorcanFredii)

_Holmes: pillow_

 _Love in Motion: LorcanFred II_

 _Auction: Accio_

 _Word Count: 438_

* * *

"I feel completely miserable," Fred groans.

Really, there's no need to say anything. He's spent the past hour or so of being awake making sure his boyfriend knows that he is very much still sick. He doesn't mean to whine, and he absolutely hates feeling so pitiful and helpless. But Lorcan is so patient and good, and Fred loves him for it.

Lorcan presses the back of his hand gently to Fred's forehead. "The potion for your fever seems to be helping," he notes before focusing his gaze on his potion set. " _Accio fever potion."_ He catches the small vial of red liquid with an ease that would make most Seekers jealous. "Open wide."

Fred grins. "You usually fix me a drink first."

Lorcan doesn't seem so amused. His pale blue eyes roll, and his lips form a hard line. "Please?"

Grudgingly, Fred opens his mouth. His boyfriend carefully tips a dose of the bitter liquid into his mouth. Fred scowls as he forces himself to swallow it. "It's foul."

"It's necessary," Lorcan says brightly, and Fred hates his Ravenclaw logic for a moment.

With a groan, Fred sinks back into his pillow, delighting in how soft and warm it is. Everything else may have him feeling absolutely awful, but at least his pillow provides a familiar comfort.

Again, Lorcan checks his forehead. "If your fever doesn't stay down, I'm going to have to Floo your mum," he says.

Fred frowns. This is exactly why he hates being sick. Everyone has to worry and fret over him. Though he doesn't mind Lorcan spoiling and pampering him, he would really rather not have to deal with everyone else treating him like he's on his deathbed when he only has the flu.

"Please don't. Have you met her?" Fred asks, grimacing. "It'll be the end of the world."

Lorcan sighs and shrugs. "Fine. But you'd better get well soon," he huffs. "Three days without my cuddle buddy. It's getting rough."

Fred laughs and grabs a pillow before throwing it at his boyfriend. "Poor baby," he teases. "I'm sure you've been _so_ miserable. How can my suffering even compare?"

With a smirk, Lorcan smacks him with the pillow before moving closer, pressing a cautious kiss to the top of Fred's forehead. "Point taken." His fingers brush over Fred's dark coppery curls. "Just get better."

"I promise I'm doing my best," Fred assures him with a wink.

"Maybe some soup will help."

As Lorcan goes downstairs to prepare soup for him, Fred can't help but smile. Being sick is miserable, but at least he has someone like Lorcan to look after him.


	65. Until He Breaks (RegulusPeter)

_Character Appreciation: Gryffindor_

 _Crafty Corner, 2x2 ribbing: opposites attract_

 _Amber's Attic: making a commitment_

 _Count Your Buttons: malicious_

 _Lyric Alley: Cause no one wants your broken parts_

 _Sophie's Shelf: RegulusPeter_

 _Film Festival: getting drunk_

 _Auction: Regulus Black_

 _Gobstones, Bronze Stone (corruption): envelope, "Do you love them?", drift_

 _Word Count: 720_

* * *

Regulus doesn't expect for this to happen.

He is his family's golden boy; his Housemates regard him as royalty. Peter is not. Peter is plain and quiet, so easy to overlook.

But they collide somehow, and they make beautiful magic.

…

Regulus rests his head in Peter's lap as his boyfriend takes a deep swig of the firewhisky he's smuggled in. Regulus doesn't know how he does it, but Peter always seems to have something he shouldn't.

"Do you love them?" Regulus asks.

There's stretch of silence, and he can do is listen to Peter's steady heartbeat.

"Who?"

"My brother and his gang."

Another silence. Peter passes Regulus the bottle. He drinks, letting the alcohol burn through his system.

"Love is a funny way to feel about friends," Peter mutters before taking the bottle again.

Regulus wonders if that's true. He's never really had friends, and he doesn't actually know what love is from his family. Maybe it's a silly word, and it _does_ sound so flimsy on his tongue.

"Do you love me?" Regulus asks.

In place of an answer, Peter sets the bottle aside and leans down, pressing a kiss to his lips. He tastes like fire and bad decisions.

Regulus is addicted.

…

He sometimes wonders why Peter is a Gryffindor. He seems far too much like a timid little mouse to belong in crimson and gold.

He wants to ask. He never does.

…

The envelope feels so heavy in his jacket pocket. Regulus leans over the railing of the Astronomy Tower, puffing away on his cigarette and watching the ashes drift to the ground below.

Sometimes, he wishes he could fall too.

"What are you thinking about?" Peter asks.

Regulus' free hand touches the pocket that holds the letter from his parents. Why does it feel like he's carrying the weight of the world? What's heavier: the shame they feel toward Sirius or the expectations they force upon him?

Maybe he's better off not knowing.

"Do you ever want to just fucking run away?" Regulus asks.

"All the time."

…

He knows what he has to do, but he's so afraid.

He doesn't want to do it alone.

…

The alcohol is nearly gone. Regulus has barely touched it, but Peter sways on the spot, and his eyes look so heavy.

Perfect.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Regulus asks, ghosting his fingers along Peter's cheek.

"What?" His boyfriend's words are slurred. Perfect.

"Knowing that your friends hate you."

Silence. Regulus sits up and tucks a cigarette between his lips, grey eyes fixed upon the other man as he lights up. He taps a finger against Peter's sloppy Gryffindor tie. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed."

He hates being so malicious. Despite his flaws, Peter really is a nice bloke. He doesn't deserve to be talked to like this.

But Regulus can't help it. He has to fall, and he's so afraid of being alone when he crashes and burns.

"They exclude you," he continues, leaning in dangerously close, his lips nearly touching Peter's. "They think you're an embarrassing, broken little thing."

The words sting, but there's no taking them back now. They do their job, at least. Regulus watches as Peter's brows knit together, and he takes another sip, then another and another until the liquor is gone.

"They… They don't…" Peter wipes his mouth, letting out a soft burp. "They don't care, do they?"

"They don't. But I do. That's why I want to help you."

"How?"

…

It shouldn't be this easy, but it is. Regulus whispers poisoned words into his lover's ears, and the corruption spreads so nicely. Peter is putty in his hands, and Regulus can mold him as he pleases.

...

Regulus trembles, but he won't let it show. He holds Peter's hands, letting his cigarette drop from his other hand. His foot snuffs out the ember. If he could, he would spend the night smoking cigarette after cigarette, but he does not have that luxury.

"Scared?" he asks Peter.

The Gryffindor shakes his head, but Regulus doesn't quite believe him.

There's no turning back now. He keeps his head held high as he leads his lover through the doors. Tonight, the corruption will be complete. They will be branded.

But at least he isn't alone in his commitment.

It almost helps.


	66. Wide Awake (PercyHermione)

_Snape Appreciation, Sleep Draught: Write about a sleepless night_

 _Gobstones, purple (gratitude): freckle, "You don't get it, okay?", "What's the problem?"_

 _Count Your Buttons: "You don't get it, okay?"_

 _Lyric Alley: But I won't let them break me down to dust._

 _Sophie's Shelf: PercyHermione_

 _Auction: moist_

 _Word Count: 497_

* * *

He's awake again. Wide, sleepless eyes stare at the ceiling.

Percy can't remember the last time he's actually slept through the night since the war. Whenever his eyes close, he's taken back to that night. He still _sees,_ still _hears_ , and he is suffocating.

With a yawn, Hermione sits up beside him, the blanket sliding down her body and exposing her bare collarbone. "What's the problem?" she asks gently, tracing her fingers along his arm and playing a silent game of connect the freckles. "Nightmares again?"

He swallows dryly. She has been there for him for the past few months. Whenever his demons had come out to play, she had been so quick to hold him close and tell him everything will be okay. He doesn't always believe her, but he tries. All he knows is that he would be completely lost without her.

"Nightmares would imply I've actually fallen asleep," he says, a bitter laugh escaping his lips.

"It's okay. You're going to make it."

"You don't get it, okay?" He knows he's being too hard on her, but he can't help it. The words spill from his mouth, and he can't seem to stop them. "It's not just that I watched my brother die. It's _my_ fault he's dead!"

He shouldn't be surprised that he's crying, and yet he's taken aback to discover the area around his eyes is moist. Percy wipes frantically his eyes, but it doesn't help. The tears begin to fall freely, and sob after sob grips his body, causing him to tremble and shake.

Hermione shouldn't stay with him. She should see him like this and decide it isn't worth it, that he is too broken of a man. He doesn't deserve her love, and he isn't completely sure why she stays at all.

But she wraps her slender arms around him, holding him close. For several moments, she doesn't speak; she lets him continue with his tears, and she does not judge him for feeling.

"You didn't kill your brother," she says. "Fred wouldn't want this for you."

She's right. Of course she's right. He's letting his demons the the best of him again, and he hates it. He knows he ought to be stronger, that he should look on the bright side and accept that there is hope for him.

But it's so bloody hard.

"Let go," she whispers before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

He knows he should. Some days, he can, but other days, like right now, it's so tempting to just let his demons take him. He's breaking, and he doesn't know if he can be fixed.

But there's a hope on her lips, and he can taste each time Hermione kisses him. She whispers that he is stronger than this, and he can make it though.

Maybe it isn't a perfect life, and he is still drowning. But Hermione is by his side, and he is more grateful than he can ever say.


	67. Misguided Hearts (AlbusElphias)

_Snape Appreciation, amortentia: Write about a first love._

 _Prompt of the Day: roses_

 _Gobstones, black stone (reunion): Leaky Cauldron, fuchsia, Galleon_

 _Disney, Bert: Write about two people who have been friends for a long time_

 _Amber's Attic, inspirational quote: Write about receiving advice_

 _Sophie's Shelf: AlbusElphias_

 _Film Festival: wearing white_

 _Word Count: 441_

* * *

Elphias is surprised to find Albus at the Leaky Cauldron, peering down at a glass of amber liquid. Roses rest on the bar beside him, and Elphias can guess. The funeral for Ariana had been a week earlier. Elphias assumes Albus is still grieving, that he will lay the flowers upon his sister's grave upon returning to Godric's Hollow.

Elphias lingers in the shadows, unsure whether or not he should approach the other man. Though he and Albus had been the best of friends throughout their Hogwarts years, it feels like an eternity since they've seen one another. After Kendra Dumbledore's death, Albus had been forced to put his life on hold. His and Elphias' paths had diverged.

But here they are, together in the same pub. Though it may be a coincidence, it feels more like fate. Since learning of Ariana's death, he's wanted to reach out to Albus, but he's been uncertain of how to proceed.

Still, he's nervous. There's no denying how handsome looks in his white robes. It makes Elphias feel like an eleven year old again, blushing and bumbling upon meeting the first and only person he's ever loved.

"Elphias, dear friend," Albus calls, making the decision for him. "How long has it been?"

"Too long, I'm afraid," Elphias says, smiling as he approaches the other man. He calls out his drink order and places a Galleon upon the bar.

…

Catching up is easy. Everything feels so natural, as though no time has passed at all. Elphias finds himself falling in love all over again.

"I'm sorry to hear about Ariana."

"It's my fault. I let him into our lives…"

Albus tells him about a man named Gellert, and how Albus had fallen while the other man manipulated him. The guilt and shame saturate his voice, and Elphias feels his heart breaking.

"You mustn't blame yourself, Albus," he says softly. "You followed your heart, and there is no shame in that. You fell in love with the wrong man. It is not your fault."

"It is my heart's fault," Albus counters, picking a bit of fuzz from Elphias' fuchsia robe sleeve. "How can I not blame myself for its carelessness?"

"It is easy to be misled by our hearts." Elphias swallows dryly. He knows he can never have some blissful romance with Albus. It has pained him for years, but he has forced himself to carry on. "Mistakes do not define us."

…

They are drunk by the time they reach the graveyard. Albus lays the flowers on his sister's grave as he weeps.

Elphias wishes he could comfort him as more than a friend.


	68. A Little Trust (GeorgeSeamus)

_Gobstones, yellow stone (joy): surprise, candle, Weasley Wizarding Wheezes_

 _Auction: sponge_

 _Holmes: George Weasley_

 _Snape Appreciation, Draught of Peace: post war_

 _Debate, trio: legacy_

 _Disney, Step in Time: dancing badly_

 _Amber's Attic, watercolor: Write about a portrait_

 _Count Your Buttons: GeorgeSeamus_

 _Sophie's Shelf: GeorgeSeamus_

 _Arcade, Kung Lao: Ron, trust, but_

 _Film Festival: feather boa_

 _Word Count: 748_

* * *

"Welcome to Weasley—Oh!" Ron offers Seamus a grin when he walks into the joke shop. "Heya, Shay. George is in back."

Seamus bows his head politely. "Thanks, mate," he says before making his way deeper into the store.

It's strangely busy for a Tuesday, but the shop is alive and filled with noise and chaos. A little girl in a rainbow feather boa nearly crashes into him, giggling as the bright accessory tickles her. A group of boys take turns passing around a Headless Hat and laughing as the charmed item causes their head to disappear.

Seamus can't help but smile. He still remembers the dark days immediately after the war. Everyone had been too nervous to try to smile again. George and the shop had helped the community heal. Fred would have been happy to know that this is his legacy.

"Knock, knock," he calls without actually knocking. He pushes the door open and finds his boyfriend making notes on stock.

"Try this," George says, offering Seamus a stick of gum.

Seamus eyes it hesitantly. "I remember the Canary Cremes," he says. "Do you really think I trust you?"

George grins, shaking his head. "Nah. But I know you love me."

"I'm beginning to reconsider."

Of course, he takes it. By now, he's been the guinea pig for countless experiments. One day, he might have enough sense to tell his boyfriend no. In the meantime…

He chews the gum. For the most part, it's pretty bland, little more than standard, slightly sweet gum. Then the prank hits, and his legs begin to move on their own. A string of curses spill from Seamus' lips as he begins to dance awkwardly, swaying badly without any real rhythm. He knows he's a poor dancer, but the gum seems to make him worse.

Seamus spits it out, narrowly missing the bin. His legs continue to move. "Is there a cure?"

George checks his watch. "Five… four… three… two… one."

On the last number, Seamus falls still. His eyes narrow, lips twisting into a scowl. "A little warning next time!"

"Where would be the fun in that?"

Seamus rolls his eyes and continues, looking at some of the products. He recognizes most of them, but there are some he has never seen before.

"What's this?" he asks, holding up what looks like an ordinary sponge. Somehow, he doubts George has been doing a little spring cleaning.

"This? Go ahead. Wipe the shelf with it."

Curious, Seamus obliges. Instead of wiping away the dust, it leaves a nasty black streak. "Have you given your mum one?"

"She would murder me."

Seamus watches in amazement as the streak fades away. He doesn't understand George's reasoning behind some things, but he's long since stopped asking. His boyfriend's joke products are amazing; it doesn't matter why they exist.

"You're not bringing these back," Seamus groans, lifting up a candle.

"They're good for ambiance."

Seamus rolls his eyes. He remembers the first time he had lit one. It had smelled like cinnamon… for the first few hours. He still doesn't know how George managed to get them to smell like literal crap after a few hours, and he would rather not find out.

"Right. Are we going out for lunch? Is that why you asked me here?" Seamus asks.

George doesn't answer straight away. Seamus shrugs and digs deeper into the box of products to entertain himself. He comes across a failed product—a portrait of Umbridge that scowls and transforms into an ugly pink toad—and chuckles. He doesn't know why those hadn't sold well. He and George have one hanging in their living room.

"You know you make me happy, right?" George asks.

Seamus chuckles. "The feeling is mutual, I assure you."

He can't remember ever feeling such joy before George had crashed into his life.

"Here. This is for you. You can trust me this time."

George holds out a cupcake. Seamus isn't as hesitant this time. Though accepting food from his boyfriend is dangerous, the cupcake looks a little too perfect, and he suspects Mrs. Weasley prepared it. Still, he picks it apart cautiously.

It's a good thing he does. If he'd bitten into it, he might have broken a tooth on the ring inside. "George…"

He understands. People don't just throw random rings into cupcakes unless there's a clear reason. Still, it doesn't ease the surprise.

"Marry me."

Seamus sets the cupcake aside, throwing his arms around his boyfriend. "I would love to."


	69. In Your Heart (SybillLavender)

_Homes: Voldemort wins_

 _Debate: Voldemort wins_

 _Lyric Alley: We are warriors_

 _Sophie's Shelf: SybillLavender_

 _Em's Emporium, Abby: Write about a survivor_

 _Film Festival: sabotage_

 _Auction: femslash_

 _Word Count: 505_

* * *

"It hurts," Lavender whimpers.

She's vaguely aware that the chaos has only worsened. There had been a brief stretch of calm, but that is over. There is screaming, and people are running all around her. Several people scream that Harry Potter is dead, and Lavender feels any last shred of hope die.

No one stops to check on her. Why should they? If what they say is true, then Voldemort is victorious, and it is every man for himself now.

"Come, dear."

Gentle hands touch her, but the shock of pain blurs her vision. She doesn't scream for long. The world fades to black.

…

"I'm not much of a Healer." Sybill stands over, frowning. "Luckily it wasn't a full moon. Otherwise, things would be much more grim."

Lavender opens her mouth to ask, but she remembers. Greyback, the war, pain, blood, and…

"Harry is dead?" she whispers.

Sybill sits next to her, resting her hand gently on Lavender's thigh. "I'm afraid so." She sniffles, wiping her eyes with her free hand. "'All the times I've been wrong… I had hoped it was a mistake again."

Lavender sinks back, tears falling freely.

She wishes Greyback had killed her.

…

There are rebel camps set up, Sybill tells her. The fight isn't over.

Lavender smiles, but she can't share the other witch's hope.

…

She screams in the middle of the night, bolting upright and covered in a cold sweat. Sybill is by her side immediately, soothing her, making promises she cannot keep.

Lavender wraps her arms around the other woman, pressing her lips to Sybill's.

"I'm your teacher…"

"I'm seventeen, and the world has gone to hell," Lavender says, laughing bitterly. "I think I'm allowed a little comfort."

Sybill is silent for a few moments. Her fingers ghost slowly down Lavender's arms. "Fair point," she decides, before kissing Lavender.

…

Their little moments at night are all Lavender has to care about anymore. Slowly, she feels like herself again.

…

"I want to find one of the camps," Lavender says as she and Sybill trek through the woods, hand in hand.

Her lover smiles. "Why the change of heart?"

Lavender pauses, taking a deep breath. It's been so long since she's allowed herself to stop and enjoy the little moments that life has to offer. Being on the run, it's always about panic and fear, and she wants so much more than that. She doesn't know how to get her old life back, or if it will do any good at all.

But she has to try; she has to fight.

"You're a Seer. You could use that to sabotage the enemy," Lavender answers. "And me… I have survived so much already. I'm ready to fight."

Sybill leans in, pressing a quick kiss to Lavender's nose. "I knew you would come around."

"Did you See it in a dream?"

Her lover smiles, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into a warm embrace. "No, my love," she says. "I saw it in your heart."


	70. Potential (BlaiseMillicent)

_Debate: Slytherin common room_

 _Auction: " This is impossible."_

 _Disney, Mary Poppins: cheerful, umbrella, efficient_

 _Count Your Buttons: "Aim for the moon and land amongst the stars, or whatever it is."_

 _Lyric Alley: For we are glorious_

 _Ami's Audio, B-List: Write about someone who thinks they're average_

 _Sophie's Shelf: BlaiseMillicent_

 _Film Festival: embarrassed_

 _Word Count: 475_

* * *

Blaise wants nothing more than to go to bed, but he doesn't complain. He sits in silence, watching as Millicent tries, once again, to Transfigure the umbrella into a walking stick. It's past midnight, and the Slytherin common room has been empty for hours now. Still, he refuses to give up.

"This is impossible!" his girlfriend groans, gripping her wand so tightly that Blaise is worried it might snap.

"It's not," he assures her.

Maybe it is. He hates to admit it, but Millicent is terrible at Transfiguration. He's tried so many times to find a quick and efficient way for her to learn, but she still struggles.

"It is," she argues, slumping back and glaring at the umbrella. "What's the use? I'm stupid. Well, at least, I'm just average. Plain, boring, average Milly."

Her cheeks burn a deep red, and tears swim in her brown eyes. Blaise hates that she feels embarrassed around him. He has tried again and again to remind her that he loves her, that he will never judge her.

"Aim for the moon and land amongst the stars, or whatever it is," he says.

He doubts it's right, but he tries. It's supposed to be encouraging, but it just sounds ridiculous coming from him. At least Millicent smiles. He'll take that as a small victory.

"Why are you so cheerful?" she asks with a roll of her eyes. "Shouldn't you be fussy from your lack of beauty sleep?"

Blaise smirks, shaking his head. "Nah. That'll be in the morning, after I've only managed like an hour of rest."

Millicent opens her mouth, undoubtedly to apologize, but Blaise cuts her off with a kiss. His fingers run through her golden brown hair as he pulls away. "I don't mind sacrificing a few hours of sleep if it helps you," he tells her.

She scrubs her palm over the back of her neck, offering him a small smile. "Why are you so nice to me?"

It's a question she's asked him several times before, one that's been echoed by several others in their House. Everyone is so quick to dismiss Millicent as average and unimportant, but he sees so much more in her. Maybe she's rough around the edges, but she is one of the funniest, most lovable girls he's ever known. He wishes everyone could see what he sees.

"Because you're glorious, and I love you," he answers.

Her lips twitch like she wants to say something, but she remains silent. Instead, she shrugs before fixing her attention on the umbrella once again and raising her wand. "I love you too," she say, and, with a flick of her wrist, she mutters the incantation again.

The umbrella is still an umbrella, but it twitches this time, as though it wants to change.

Blaise grins. He knows she has it in her.


	71. Good Luck (SeamusOliver)

_Auction: Healer_

 _Character Appreciation: Keeper_

 _Ami's Audio, The Gregathalon: challenge, Oliver, "Everything hurts."_

 _Word Count: 476_

* * *

In theory, being the team Healer for Puddlemere is a pretty good job. It pays well, plus Seamus gets to attend Quidditch matches for free.

Unfortunately, having an accident-prone playing for the team makes it less enjoyable. It doesn't help that Oliver tends to see each match as some great challenge to conquer, some new opportunity to push himself further. Seamus has lost count of the number of times his boyfriend has ended up under his care during a match.

Seamus keeps his eyes on the chaos in the air, watching as Oliver blocks the Cannons' Chaser nimbly. He looks majestic up there, guarding the goal posts with a grace that none can rival.

But it takes only the blink of an eye; Seamus doesn't even see it happen. One minute, Oliver is in position, doing his thing. The next, he's falling, still clinging to the Quaffle. There's no stopping him, but someone casts a cushioning charm, breaking his fall.

Seamus runs to the field, trying to separate work life from his personal life. In this moment, he has to be a Healer, not Oliver's boyfriend. He knows all too well that letting his feelings for the Keeper cloud his judgment will only make things worse.

He waves his wand and mutters a spell to carry Oliver off the field. As he guides Oliver along, he hears the Captain request a time out. Seamus only hopes he can have Oliver back in action. The team's reserve Keeper is good, but she doesn't have anything on Oliver.

"How are you feeling?" Seamus asks when they're safely off the field.

"Everything hurts," Oliver answers with groan. "I think I'm dying."

Seamus rolls his eyes. Oliver doesn't know how to get injured without being dramatic.

He carefully examines his boyfriend, being as gentle as possible and making an evaluation. Oliver hisses and groans with each touch.

"Contusions," Seamus reports. "Broken wrist. And your shoulder has a crack in the bone. Could have been much worse."

He searches through his vials of potions and remedies before grabbing a bright blue liquid and removing the stopper. "Open."

Oliver wrinkles his nose. "Do I have to?" he asks. "That one tastes funny."

"Would you rather sit out the rest of the match?"

Grudgingly, the older wizard opens his mouth, allowing Seamus to drip the potion onto his tongue. He swallows, grimacing. "Disgusting."

"Stop getting hurt, and it won't be necessary," Seamus reminds him.

Oliver offers him an almost contrite grin. "How about a kiss for good luck?"

Seamus rolls his eyes but leans in, kissing Oliver gently. "Go win," he says.

His boyfriend salutes before dusting himself off and marching back onto the field. Seamus watches, unable to fight a smile that tugs at his lips. Hopefully the next time he sees Oliver will be _after_ match when they're out for dinner.


	72. A Little Longer (JamesNarcissa)

_Prompt of the Day: engagement ring_

 _Character Appreciation: father and daughter_

 _Disney, wisdom: Write about someone passing down their knowledge to a younger member of their family_

 _Sophie's Shelf: JamesNarcissa_

 _Arcade, Tremor: rock, underground, "It's over."_

 _Snape Appreciation, Confusing Concoction: Confundo_

 _Word Count: 610_

* * *

Narcissa stares at the engagement ring on her finger as she enters her father's office. She wishes she could take it off and destroy it. This is her last chance at fighting this.

"Is something bothering you, Cissa?" her father asks, brows raised. "You never visit me here."

She doesn't answer at first. Her bright eyes remain fixed upon the diamond nested against the silver band. "Father, do I have to marry Lucius?" She looks up at him, biting her lip. "I don't love him."

"Do you truly believe your mother loves me?" he asks, gesturing for her to sit down. "I assure you, she does not. Our marriages are built on duty, not love."

"But—"

"You are a Black," he says, and she's surprised by how gentle his tone is. He isn't angry with her; it's just important to him that she understands. "You will be wise to heed my advice. It doesn't matter who has stolen your heart. Their promise of the future means nothing. As a Black, you are bound by your duty to the family."

She hadn't come here for a heart to heart or some sage advice, but maybe it's exactly what she needs. Her thumb brushes over the cold silver again, and she sighs heavily. "I understand, Father."

He smiles at her. "Of course you do," he says. "You always were a bright girl. Now, off to bed. Back to Hogwarts in the morning."

…

It takes her nearly a week to seek him out. When she finds him, he's at the lake, his wand aimed at Severus.

Narcissa trembles. It isn't easy to fight back the fear she feels, but she tries. "James?" she calls, kicking a rock as she walks.

He doesn't seem to hear her. With a roll of her eyes, Narcissa reaches out and grabs his arm just as he says, " _Confundo!"_

She doesn't see where the charm goes, but it misses Severus. James rounds on her, but his anger fades the moment he realizes who has interrupted his silly feud. "Narcissa!" He grins. "I thought you've been avoiding me."

"I have," she confirms. "Not here, please."

There's no denying the hurt in his hazel eyes, but James nods. He gently curls his fingers around her wrist, leading her away from prying eyes. No one seems to notice them leaving together.

She doesn't understand how he knows all these strange hiding places, and she isn't surprised when he brings her to an underground cavern that's hidden behind thick brush.

"What is it?" he asks when they're safely hidden away.

"It's over," she says, and her voice cracks with emotion. "My family has arranged for me to marry Lucius."

"Malfoy? That prat? No offense to your folks, but they have poor taste in men."

She almost laughs at that, but it hurts too much. "I'm sorry. I do you love you, but I will be married this summer, and—"

Her sentence dies as he presses his lips to hers. Narcissa can't help it; she relaxes against his touch, savoring the sweet, gentle moment.

"This summer is ages away," he tells her, kissing her forehead and holding her close. "We can still do what we do until then."

Narcissa considers. It's such a mad idea, and she ought to tell him as much. She can't bring herself to do it. She never meant to fall in love with James Potter, but she has, and there's no turning back now. Maybe they won't have a happily ever after. In the end, she will be a Malfoy, and James will undoubtedly find someone to love.

For now, she can cling to hope and pretend.


	73. Hopeful Beginnings (CharlieTeddy)

_Auction: Charlie Weasley_

 _Character Appreciation: Head Boy_

 _Trope of the Month, crossgen: information_

 _Lyric Alley: I know I deserve your love_

 _Sophie's Shelf: CharlieTeddy_

 _Word Count: 433_

* * *

"I heard the news," Charlie says, gesturing at the Head Boy badge pinned to Teddy's chest. "Congratulations."

The seventeen year old hesitates, a quick chill shooting down his spine. He stares at the older man for several seconds, trying to formulate a sentence.

His dads know his crush, of course. They had always called it cute and said that anything could happen. Teddy wonders if they're right. Could Charlie want to date him too?

He feels ridiculous to even consider it. What would Charlie want from someone like him?

But he pushes that thought away as quickly as it comes. It doesn't matter if Charlie returns his feelings or not. Teddy is so tired of keeping it a secret. He's an adult now, and adults are supposed to say what they mean.

If Charlie doesn't feel the same way, it's okay. Teddy knows it isn't because he isn't worth loving.

"Got any plans to celebrate?" Charlie asks whenever the stretch of silence becomes too much. He gestures around at the gathering of Weasleys and Potters, all of doing their things. "Aside from Mum's little party for you, I mean."

Teddy swallows dryly but nods. It takes a moment for him to remember how to speak. "Yeah. Come here. I'll show you."

Before Charlie can even ask, Teddy walks off. He hears footsteps behind him as the older man rushes to keep up. Teddy leads him a hidden spot just beyond the Burrow's back yard. It's his favorite hiding place; only James knows about it, and that's only because he had been with Teddy when he'd first hidden out there.

"Will you help me celebrate?" Teddy asks softly, his cheeks warming with color.

"How?"

Teddy leans in, pressing a kiss to Charlie's lips. It just feels right. He thinks back to all the times he's kissed Victoire, so desperate for it to feel natural and normal. Now, he finally knows what it's like to kiss the right person.

Charlie breaks the kiss, pulling away with wide eyes. "You do know how old I am, right?"

Teddy grins. "Yes. I do."

"It doesn't bother you?"

It isn't as though this is some new information. Teddy has had plenty of time to cope with the fact that Charlie is much older than he is.

"Not at all," Teddy assures him.

A moment passes. Charlie presses a kiss to his forehead. "I'm not saying no," he says. "Let me wrap my head around it, okay? Then we can see where it goes from there."

Teddy nods. It's a hopeful beginning, and he is willing to accept it.


	74. One Last Kiss (TomWalburga)

_Lyric Alley: I make no apologies_

 _Sophie's Shelf: TomWalburga_

 _Arcade, Shinnok: Tom Riddle Jr, strong, gold_

 _Snape Appreciation, Strengthening Solution: Write about someone weak_

 _Word Count: 323_

* * *

Walburga knows that this isn't love. As much as she wants it to be, she knows that Tom does not actually care for her. He is cold and calculated, so high above an emotion as flimsy as love.

But she is weak. As much as she hates it, as much as she tries to convince herself that is strong, she is no match for him. All he has to do is smile at her, and she loses control of herself.

"Orion is a good man," he says when she comes back to school after winter holidays with a gold band on her finger. "He will make a fine husband for you."

Walburga shakes her head. "I don't want him to be my husband," she insists, taking his hand gently. "I want to love you."

His lip curls back, his nostrils flaring. Tom pulls away, eyes narrowing. "And what makes you think I want that?" he demands. "This dalliance we've shared has been fun, but it's just that."

Walburga feels her resolve fade. She hunches over slightly, wrapping her arms around herself as though she can physically keep herself together. Trembling, she takes several shaky breaths before narrowing her eyes at him. "Do I mean nothing to you?" she demands.

Tom reaches out and caresses her cheek with her fingertips. Her eyes close, and she shivers, delighting in his touch.

"Your loyalty to me means more than you can ever know, Walburga," he says, leaning in and kissing her in a way that feels like goodbye. "I cannot love, I'm afraid, though I appreciate your faithfulness."

Tears sting her eyes, and she blinks them away. She will not be weak now. Somehow, she will find her strength. "I love you," she whispers.

His lips quirk. "A foolish choice, really."

And without another word, he turns on his heel and disappears through the door. Walburga is left with nothing but a broken heart and memories.


	75. Caught (PercyAudrey)

_Character Appreciation: Ministry Worker_

 _Arcade, Kurtis Stryker: Kingsley, "Busted!", catching someone/thing_

 _Holmes: incorruptible_

 _Word Count: 391_

* * *

"Audrey…" His protest comes out in a whisper. Part of him wants to give in, to act on the things he feels for her. But he can't. Not here, at work, where anyone could walk in and see them.

"Live a little, Weasley," she says, plump lips quirking into a mischievous smile. "What's the worst that could happen?"

He almost laughs at that. A lot could happen. A storage closet at the Ministry of Magic isn't exactly his idea of a romantic retreat. He loves his job, and just the thought of doing anything that could jeopardize it makes him want to throw up.

"You look like you're going to faint," Audrey notes, brows knitting together.

Merlin, he wants to be impulsive. Some dark corner of his brain has always envied his brothers for their reckless spontaneity. He gets the feeling they wouldn't think twice when faced with an opportunity like this.

But Percy has always been the exception. He's always been too calculating, to cautious, and his mind races now.

"I guess I'm not as seductive as I thought." Audrey huffs out a sigh, but she doesn't back away. Her lips are dangerously close to his.

Percy shakes his head. "You are very much seductive," he assures her. "I just… Not here. It's inappropriate, and—"

She cuts him off with a kiss. Maybe there's part of him that doesn't want to break away, that likes the way her lips feel against his, but he cannot act on it. Before he has the chance to pull away, though, the door opens.

"Busted!"

The deep, steady voice is all too familiar. Percy looks up, certain his face is the same color of a beet, and tries for a contrite smile. Of all the people who could catch them, why did it have to be Kingsley?

"Good morning, Minister," Percy says. "I assure you, this isn't what it looks like."

Kingsley just shakes his head, lips pulling back into a toothy grin. "Get back to work, Weasley," he says. "You too, White." Then he turns on his heel, still chuckling as he walks away.

"Are you embarrassed?" Audrey asks.

"Mortified," Percy confirms.

She presses a chaste kiss to his cheek. "I'll make it up to you. Dinner and drinks after work?"

Percy relaxes at that and offers her a nod. "It's a date."


	76. Going Public (RolandaGwenog)

_Character Appreciation: professional Quidditch player_

 _Count Your Buttons: Rolanda Hooch_

 _Auction: secret relationship_

 _Holmes: angry, kissing, "I never know what to expect with you."_

 _Word Count: 398_

* * *

Rolanda knows she shouldn't be angry, but it's so damn hard sometimes. She had known that getting into a relationship with Gwenog wouldn't be an easy thing. As a professional Quidditch player, Gwenog is a celebrity, and people are always watching her. Someone seeing her with Rolanda could mean the end of her career.

She had been understanding for such a long time. Keeping it a secret had been painful, but she loves Gwenog too much to complain.

But this?

Rolanda takes a deep breath trying to steady herself. She blinks rapidly, but the image stays the same. There, emblazoned on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ , is her girlfriend, locking lips with a man—Jordan Yewbeam, the Keeper for the Catapults.

Her blood boils, and she can't stop herself. Blinking back angry tears, she rips the paper in half. It isn't enough. Again and again, Rolanda shreds it, but it does nothing to calm the storm that rages inside her.

"I never know what to expect with you." Gwenog's voice draws her out of her thoughts. "Last time I was here, you had breakfast waiting for me. Today, you're shredding the damn newspaper."

Rolanda glares at her lover, lips curling into a scowl. "Only because the newspaper showed my girlfriend snogging Jordan Yewbeam," she snaps.

Gwenog winces, and there's something in her dark eyes that makes the anger fade. "It was after our last match against the Falcons." She tugs at her black braid. "What the photographer failed to report was that I shoved him away and threatened to press charges."

Rolanda feels ridiculous. She really should have known better. Gwenog has been so good to her. Maybe it's the secrets and the hiding that has her so on edge.

Gwenog closes the distance between them, wrapping her toned arms around Rolanda and pulling her into a passionate kiss. "I love you, Ro," she whispers. "Only you."

…

It's a blur of noise and light and motion. Rolanda watches as the Harpies' Seeker catches the Snitch. Moments later, Gwenog is by her side, pulling her onto the Quidditch pitch.

"What are you doing?" Rolanda asks, eyes wide as she tries to comprehend.

"Celebrating a victory with my girlfriend," Gwenog says before capturing her in a kiss.

Rolanda wants to ask, to know if she's sure, if this is worth the risk.

But she just lets it happen.


	77. Secrets Under the Stars (LeeRoxanne)

_Sophie's Shelf: LeeRoxanne_

 _Love in Motion: LeeRoxanne_

 _Auction: watching the stars_

 _Word Count: 463_

* * *

Lee finds Roxanne in the garden, seated upon the blanket, head tilted back and watching the stars. He stands there in silence, unsure what to say at first.

The younger witch chuckles and turns to him, golden eyes illuminated by the moonlight. "You can join me, you know," she says, offering him a radiant grin.

He hesitates. Truth be told, he's there to end things with her. It isn't that he doesn't love her—he does, so much that it hurts—but he feels like this isn't fair to her. Roxanne deserves someone who can lover her openly. It doesn't matter that she's twenty; there are too many complications attached to it. At the end of the day, she is still his best friend's daughter, and they've been sneaking around for two years.

Roxanne deserves better.

But fuck! It's so hard to walk away.

"I don't bite," she says, patting a spot beside her on the blanket it.

Lee doesn't try to resist. It's a losing battle, and he may as well surrender. He sits beside her, resting his hand in hers, turning his gaze toward the sky. The stars are so beautiful, but he can't even bring himself to appreciate them. His insides have turned to mush, and he doesn't know what to do anymore.

"Rox, you know we can't—"

She doesn't give him chance to finish. Her lips meet his, and Lee feels the last ounce of his resolve fade. He melts into her kiss, savoring the silly feel of her lips, the way her fingertips brush over his cheek and make him tremble.

"Roxy…"

She pulls away, exhaling deeply. "I'm tired of having this conversation, Lee," she says simply, shrugging her slender shoulders before laying back, resting her head in his lap. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I'm in love with you, that my parents can't stop me from being with you. Just shut up, love me, and let me love you."

Lee bites back a laugh. Sometimes, Roxanne reminds him so much of Angelina with her attitude. "You know it's not that simple."

Roxanne snorts. "It is. You just insist on complicating things."

Lee supposes it's mostly true. There's always a chance that they'll be okay, but he has so much trouble seeing that possibility.

"Are you done trying to break up with me?" Roxanne asks.

"I guess."

"Good. There's supposed to be a meteor shower tonight," she tells him. "I want to see it."

With a smile, Lee adjusts his position and lays back, his gaze fixed upon the sparkling stars above. It's moments like this, when Roxanne is so stubborn, so beautiful, so perfect that it's easy to fall in love even more.

He couldn't have asked for a more perfect night.


	78. More Than a Monster (BartyLuna)

_Prompt of the Day: Barty Crouch Jr_

 _Sophie's Shelf: BartyLuna_

 _Auction: reading_

 _Word Count: 515_

* * *

When they bring the Lovegood girl forward, Barty doesn't give anyone else a chance to claim her as their own.

"She's mine," he says, eyes narrowing at anyone who might try to contradict him.

They don't. He's the one who assured the Dark Lord's resurrection and victory. Aside from Bellatrix, he is the most trusted among the Death Eaters.

Luna doesn't even look afraid when Barty takes her away.

…

She's a strange thing. Barty expects her to break, but she just smiles instead.

"It's okay," she tells him. "You don't know any better."

He doesn't know why this angers him.

…

Luna talks to him. Barty can't help but be surprised. There are no screams and threads; she doesn't beg and plead with him.

Instead, she talks to him like they're old friends, like they have something in common.

His insides flutter, and he's afraid he might melt.

Scowling, he turns away. It is his job to break her. She will not have the upper hand.

…

"Is there anything interesting happening?" she asks as he reads the newspaper.

Barty rolls his eyes. "Only what we allow to happen," he tells her. "Do you find _that_ interesting?"

Luna considers for a moment. Barty watches her, surprised by the amount of thought she seems to put into a rhetorical question.

"I think it could be," she decides. "It gives me an idea of what type of person you are."

"A bad one," he says sharply. "That's what type."

She just smiles at him, and he doesn't understand. "I don't think you're so bad." She sits back in her chair. "Not really."

When he draws his hand and casts the Cruciatus Curse on her, she screams. "Really? You think I'm good?" he asks, lips curled into a sneer.

He doesn't understand why he suddenly feels so sick.

…

Luna Lovegood is dangerous in her own way. She doesn't need curses and hexes to create devastation. All it takes is a kind smile and a mention of those impossible creatures.

Barty thinks he needs to get far away from her. He considers throwing her into a cellar and letting her rot, but he can't bring himself to do it.

Though she scares him, Luna is mesmerizing. Barty doesn't ever want to be apart from her.

…

He doesn't know when the shift happens, but something changes. Slowly, she comes more of a guest and less of a captive.

He keeps his home heavily warded, ensuring she cannot leave. She never tries. Maybe the shift has affected her too.

Barty can't explain why it makes him happy.

…

When he kisses her, she doesn't pull away. Her slender arms wrap around him, and it just feels so right.

He breaks the kiss, eyes wide as he studies her. "I'm a monster," he tells her.

She just smiles. "You're not."

…

It isn't a love story. He knows there will be no happily ever after. At the end of the day, they are still on opposing sides; she is still his prisoner.

But Barty can allow himself to pretend.


	79. A Secret Love (PhineasBob)

_Assignment 4, Muggle History task 4: Write about something that happens every night._

 _Additional prompts at the bottom_

 _Word Count: 614_

* * *

Phineas knows that he shouldn't do this. Bob is Iola's husband, a Muggle; falling into his arms is so wrong.

But he can't help himself.

…

He doesn't mean for it to happen. A growing curiosity shifts, bordering on an obsession. When Iola leaves one night, Phineas appears at the door.

Her Muggle is handsome enough with his golden eyes and auburn hair. The way he looks at Phineas makes him wonder if the feeling is mutual.

"Phineas Nigellus Black," he says.

"Bob Hitchens." He looks Phineas up and down, folding his toned arms over his chest. "Iola isn't here."

"I'm not here for her."

…

He doesn't know exactly how it happens, but it keeps happening, and he can't seem to stop himself. Night after night, he and Bob sneak out and lay together.

It isn't fair. Why does Iola have a lover so dear? Why can't he have that?

But he does have it. It doesn't matter that he's forced to keep it a secret. Even if it's only for a few hours at night, Bob is still his, and neither Iola nor Ursula know.

…

"Do you really love me?" Phineas asks.

It's such a stupid question, and he already knows the answer. Why else would Bob return night after night, without fail and risk his marriage? This isn't just simple affection and infatuation; only love can make someone want to sacrifice everything like this.

"Go to sleep, Phineas," Bob groans, rough fingers brushing clumsily through Phineas' dark hair and snagging on tangles.

"You didn't answer my question."

Bob rolls onto his side, lips twitching into a soft smile. "Yes, I love you," he says. "Now, for the last time, go to sleep!"

Phineas grumbles but shrugs, curling against his lover. "I love you too," he whispers.

…

"Where do you go at night?" Ursula asks when Phineas has one foot out the door.

He hates that she's caught him, but he isn't surprised. This has been going on every night for two months. Usually, he comes back before sunrise, but there are some nights where he and Bob pretend that nothing is wrong and everything is perfect. Of course Ursula would figure it out.

"What's her name?"

He doesn't answer, opting to let a tense silence hang between them. For several moments, his wife doesn't speak either. Finally, she exhales, shaking her head.

"Did our vows mean nothing to you, Phineas?" Her blue eyes narrow, and Phineas suddenly feels very small. "I never thought you would prove to be a liar."

"Ursula…"

"End it," she snaps, turning on her heel and storming off, her blonde curls bouncing with each angry step she takes. "End it, or I will ruin you."

Phineas hears the door slam. He waits several moments, his heart shattering within his chest.

…

He doesn't want to say goodbye, but his wife's threat still echoes in his mind.

 _I will ruin you_.

Ursula could manage it so easily too.

Bob meets him in their usual place, and Phineas feels weak. Why does Bob have to look so fucking perfect? It breaks his heart a little more.

"We can't keep doing this," Phineas says.

Bob smirks at him, like it's some amusing game. If only it could still be something so simple.

When Phineas' expression doesn't change, Bob's smile fades. "What happened?"

Phineas starts to answer, but the words stick in his throat and come out more sob than sentence. It's a pitiful, strangled sound, and all he can do is climb to his feet and flee.

Bob deserves a proper goodbye, but Phineas can't bring himself to give him one.

Merlin, when did be become so pathetic?

* * *

 _Character Appreciation: witch/wizard having a relationship with a Muggle_

 _Disney: "Now, for the last time, go to sleep!"_

 _Dark Lady's Lair: secret_

 _Book Club, Enzo: "Do you really love me?", affection, jealous_

 _Showtime, Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again: goodbye_

 _Amber's Attic: "Perhaps our fatal flaw is that we attempt to make forever out of people who are meant to be temporary."-Rudy Francisco_

 _Lyric Alley: You are going silent, the silent treatment_

 _Sophie's Shelf: PhineasBob_

 _Emy's Emporium:broken promise_

 _Film Festival: a breakup_


	80. Lunchtime Rescue (CharlieTheo)

_Back to School: lunch_

 _Slash September: Charlie_

 _Character Appreciation: saving someone's life_

 _Dark Lady's Lair: radishes_

 _Showtime, Angel of Music: frightened_

 _Sophie's Shelf: CharlieTheo_

 _Arcade, Vector: green, boss, hat_

 _Lowdown, Sokka: instinct_

 _Sewing 101: knife, gold, smile_

 _Feline Fair, Siamese Cat: Write about a helpful person_

 _Word Count: 376_

* * *

"You can sit here," Charlie offers.

He isn't surprised when Theo turns away and finds an empty table. Charlie has tried to make the younger man feel welcome. After all, they're the only ones from England working on the reserve, and it's only polite. Bill swears Charlie has ulterior motives. Maybe he does; only an idiot would deny how attractive he is.

Shaking his head, he returns his attention back to his lunch—a plate of leafy green spinach, radishes, tomatoes, and grilled chicken. Just as he lifts the knife, however, there's s sudden clatter. When he looks up, fear makes his body grow cold. Theo's face has turned purple, and he gestures desperately at his throat.

Charlie forces his fear down and jumps up, rushing forward. He acts on instinct, wrapping his arms around Theo's slender body. Though he doesn't know exactly what he's doing, Charlie vaguely remembers seeing his mother do this to George once. He recalls the memory, mimicking the motions as best he can.

"Fuck…"

Relief floods his body when he hears Theo's voice. He lets go and moves in front of the other man, a small smile on his lips. "Good," he says, and his voice is still so small, so tight from his panic. "You're… You're good."

Theo touches the tips of his fingers to his throat, eyes wide. "You saved me," he says, wincing as though speaking hurts him.

"I couldn't just let you choke," Charlie says, reaching down and grabbing Theo's black hat with a gold pin attached.. It must have fallen off during the chaos; he places it on the other man's head with a grin.

"Let me buy you dinner," Theo says, still massaging his throat. "As a way to say thank you."

"You don't have to do that," Charlie assures him.

"Well, let me buy you dinner as a date."

The words hang in the air, and Charlie blinks rapidly, wondering if he's heard him correctly. Finally, he nods. "Dinner sounds good," he says. "Eight o'clock work for you?"

Theo salutes. "You're the boss."

Once the panic and chaos is over, and plans have been made, the two men sit down at a table together. They manage to enjoy the rest of their lunch in peace.


	81. Lessons in Healing (JustinErnie)

_Slash September: Justin_

 _Prompt of the Day: "No murder."/"But-"/"No. Murder."_

 _365: hurt/comfort_

 _Insane House Challenge: praying_

 _Back to School: learning_

 _Disney, Trust In Me: "Just trust me."_

 _Book Club, Linus: boyfriend, smiling, beer_

 _Showtime, Phantom of the Opera: singing_

 _Arcade, E-123 Omega: dark, "I will protect you.", walking_

 _Word Count: 416_

* * *

Justin hates this. It feels like it's been a century since he's been able to sleep through the night. The hands on the clock tell him that it's three in the morning, and he's walking around the kitchen, wide awake. A half-finished bottle of beer is on the table, condensation dotting the brown glass.

Alcohol doesn't seem to help anymore. In the first few days following the final battle, he had found salvation through drunken oblivion. Now, however, the once comforting drink tastes too bitter and makes him want to puke.

And he is still awake.

Justin drops to his knees. He thinks of his mother and the way she would always cling to her rosary. Though he can't remember the last time he's attended Mass, he recalls the motions and crosses himself. His lips move in silent prayer.

"What are you doing?"

He looks up to see Ernie standing in the doorway, smiling gently.

With a sigh, Justin stands, the prayer unfinished. "Trying to find comfort," he says, pushing hand through his tawny curls.

"Still have nightmares?"

Justin shudders. Just the mention of nightmares is enough to bring the memories back. It's a miracle he's still alive. How many times had Snatchers come close to catching him?

Before Justin can even answer, Ernie crosses the kitchen and wraps his sturdy arms around Justin. "I will protect you."

Justin sighs deeply, shaking his head. It's a talk they've had countless times, and he still hasn't convinced Ernie that revenge isn't the answer. "No murder."

"But—"

"No. Murder." Justin kisses his cheek. "Just trust me. It isn't worth it."

"Tell me how to make things better."

Justin bites the inside of cheek until he can taste the faint metallic hint of blood on his tongue. He's still learning how to balance his dark thoughts and move on. Every day seems to be a new lesson in healing, and he still doesn't know what he's doing most of the time.

But he's still trying. Somehow, he is still carrying on.

"Sing me a lullaby," he says, resting his head on his boyfriend's chest. "That will make things better."

"It'll make your ears bleed," Ernie snorts, but he begins to sing, keeping his arms around Justin and guiding him back to bed.

It isn't a beautiful lullaby. Ernie's voice is loud and off-key. But it makes Justin feel like maybe there's hope for him, that it doesn't matter that he is haunted because the world can still be beautiful.


	82. Turn it Around (EdgarFabian)

_Sewing 101: Gift fic for Sophy_

 _Slash September: Fabian_

 _Back to School: school tie_

 _Character Appreciation: studying_

 _Disney: "She did that on purpose!"/ "Obviously."_

 _Showtime, All I Ask of You (reprise): denied_

 _Amber's Attic: "Home is any place that makes you forget the world is on fire."_

 _Lyric Alley: Turn it around, get a rewrite_

 _Emy's Emporium, singer at the Blind Pig: jazz_

 _Auction: teacup_

 _Insane House Challenge: Fabian Prewett_

 _365: quill_

 _Word Count: 433_

* * *

 _They're sitting in library, studying in silence when Edgar drops his quill. "Remember when your sister said you needed help with Charms?"_

 _Fabian glances up from his book. "Mhm. What about it?"_

" _You didn't need help. She knew you fancied me! She did that on purpose!"_

 _Fabian just offers him a grin and playful roll of his bright brown eyes. "Obviously."_

"I'm glad you could make it," Molly says gently when Edgar enters the parlor.

All he can do is hug her. If he is hurting from what's happened, he can't imagine what she's going through.

"He loved you, you know," she whispers.

He almost smiles. "I know."

 _Edgar holds the crimson and gold tie to his neck, entertaining the idea of what he might look like as a Gryffindor._

 _Fabian grins at him. "You look good in my House tie," he says moving closer. "You'd look even better wearing_ only _my House tie."_

He pauses, staring at a picture of Fabian and Gideon together. The brothers sit together, grinning and waving the camera. Their outfits are nearly identical, except Edgar recognizes the yellow and black tie around Fabian's neck.

Tears sting his eyes, and he blinks them away. It doesn't do him any good; they spill, trickling down his cheek.

" _I'm just saying," Edgar says as he pours tea into the cups, "I never denied that it was a terrible idea. She doesn't even like jazz. We're incompletely incompatible."_

 _Fabian smiles and shakes his head, his messy auburn hair whipping against his face. "I don't like jazz either," he points out._

" _You're the exception."_

 _And they laugh, like there's something funny, like their days aren't numbered. In less than a week, Edgar will be married because it's expected of him. This will end._

 _But they can pretend. For now, they have each other. Maybe the world is ending, and the war is raging on without mercy. There are no promises of tomorrow, no thoughts of the future._

 _There is only Fabian in his kitchen, putting too much sugar into his tea. There is only hopes and dreams that will never come true, but they can pretend and hold onto one another for a little longer._

" _I wish I could change things," Fabian says._

 _But Edgar silences him with a kiss because it hurts too much to know they have to let go._

"I wish…" Edgar wipes his eyes, choking on a sob.

The words won't come. All he can do is stare at Fabian in that coffin and pretend that miracles happen, that he can change things somehow.

If only he could.


	83. Boys in Beds (TerryAnthony)

_Slash September: Terry Boot_

 _Sewing 101: blanket, gone, sky blue_

 _Piñata: easy, Ravenclaw_

 _Insane House Challenge: "Can't Hurry Love"_

 _Back to School: "There's a boy in my bed."_

 _Feline, American Shorthair: Write about someone who likes to talk_

 _Trope of the Month, bed sharing: blanket_

 _Book Club, Wade: "You want me to hold you? Is that what you're saying?", serious, threatening someone_

 _Showtime, Think of Me: "Can it be?"_

 _Arcade, Rogue the Bat: white, smirking, "Hey there, pretty boy."_

 _Lowdown: "That's rough, buddy."_

 _Film Festival: "Be quiet. You're starting to annoy me."_

 _Word Count: 435_

* * *

" _But mama said you can't hurry love."_

* * *

"Hey there, pretty boy. There's a boy in my bed."

"And now there's one in mine," Terry says with an amused quirk of his lips. "Can it be? Is there a trend here?"

Anthony lays in his Terry's bed, offering him an apologetic smile as he he pulls his white and sky blue blanket aside and making room for Terry. Terry considers for a moment, his cheeks growing warm. He and Anthony have spent a good part of the past four years flirting, dancing around the obvious.

"I think it's a first year who got turned around trying to find his dorm," Anthony adds.

"That's rough, buddy." Terry tugs awkwardly at the collar of his shirt, clearing his throat. "I'm sure he'll be gone soon."

Anthony shrugs. "Coming to bed?"

Terry can't find a reason not to. He remembers having sleepovers as a kid and sharing a bed. There's nothing strange about it. The fact that he fancies Anthony doesn't have anything to do with his sudden nervous..

"You want me to hold you? Is that what you're saying?" he asks with a smirk, amazed that he sounds so confident. Merlin knows he's shaking inside.

"Just get in bed."

Terry doesn't have to be told twice. He climbs into bed, keeping a careful distance. Anthony doesn't even try to pretend; he moves closer, resting his head on Terry's chest.

"How come we've never done this?" Anthony asks, shifting so that his dark eyes meet Terry's. "I mean… We both like each other, right? So… Why?"

"Can't rush these things."

"Four years," Anthony chuckles. "Not exactly rushing it, is it?" He squirms again, turning his attention to the ceiling. "I'm serious. Why are we like this? We should just date already, don't you think?"

"You're in a chatty mood tonight."

"You're avoiding the question," Anthony counters. "Have you ever noticed you do that? Like… a lot."

"It's nearly midnight. If you don't let me sleep, I swear I throw you out and make you sleep on the floor," Terry grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"That's not very nice. You wouldn't dare."

"Be quiet. You're starting to annoy me."

Anthony chuckles. When Terry turns to look at him, the other boy just smirks. "Make me."

With a shrug, Terry captures Anthony's lips in a kiss. It's strange how relieved he feels when their lips finally meet, and he can't help but smile.

Maybe it's been four years; maybe they've been tiptoeing around it, never daring to give it a chance. But maybe the wait has been worth it.


	84. Birthday Wishes (ChoMarietta)

_Sewing 101: candle, heat, orange_

 _Back to School: colored pencils_

 _Amber's Attic: "I swear when our lips touch, I can taste the next sixty years."- Rudy Francisco_

 _Lyric Alley: I did not deserve_

 _Word Count: 408_

* * *

"You did this for me?" Cho asks, watching her girlfriend light the candles on the cake.

"It's really not a big deal," Marietta mumbles.

But it really is. After a while, birthdays just become regular days. She can't remember the last time she's actually been excited to turn older until now.

The cake is small, and the edges are lopsided, but it's decorated in sunset orange frosting that makes Cho so happy. It's easy to tell that Marietta has put a lot of work into making sure Cho feels special today. She doesn't think she deserves it, but she would never tell Marietta that.

"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you." And as Marietta sings, her voice off-key and shrill but still so beautiful, Cho wonders how it's possible that she's falling even more in love.

"Make a wish."

How can Cho wish for anything when Marietta is already everything she needs? She tries to think of anything she might want in life, but all she can think about is her girlfriend. She leans in, and she can feel the gentle heat from the candles' flames as she purses her lips and blows them out. _I wish for forever with Marietta._

"What did you wish for?" Marietta asks, already cutting a slice of the most mouthwatering cake Cho has ever seen.

"You can't tell your wish," Cho says, accepting a piece of cake. "If you do, it won't come true, and I'm not taking that chance."

"Fair enough," Marietta says with a smile, turning away from the cake.

"Aren't you getting a piece?" Cho asks, finally taking a bite and enjoying the moist, chocolatey goodness in her mouth.

"First things first," Marietta says. "I have to give you your present."

Cho can't even remember the last time anyone has given her a birthday present. She can't help but smile as Marietta retrieves a pack of nice colored pencils. They aren't wrapped, but they're topped with a metallic blue bow.

"I didn't know what else to get you," Marietta murmurs. "I know you've started drawing again, so…"

Cho sets her cake aside and wraps her arms around Marietta, holding her close. She doesn't know how she's so lucky, how she could have such a wonderful girlfriend who genuinely cares about her. Unable to resist the smile that tugs at her lips, Cho kisses her, and she can't help but feel like her wish is going to come true.


	85. Giver (CedricPercy)

_Prompt of the Day: kissing someone's cheek_

 _Dark Lady's Lair: shimmering_

 _Showtime, Music of the Night: sensation_

 _Back to School: Cedric_

 _Sewing 101: gift for Bed_

 _Slash September: Cedric_

 _Word Count: 416_

* * *

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Percy squints his eyes against the darkness, confirming to himself that it _is_ Cedric.

It isn't unusual for prefects to be out at odd hours of the night on patrol, but Cedric isn't scheduled for it tonight. Percy and Gemma have the current shift, and the staff will take over after.

"Couldn't sleep," Cedric admits, and there's a faint blush of color in his cheeks.

Percy tries not stare, but it isn't easy. Cedric is handsome, and he wants little more than to look at the Hufflepuff boy.

"Are you going through a breakup?" Percy asks and he hates how ridiculous the question sounds. "I know I had trouble sleeping after mine."

"You and Penelope broke up?"

Is that a hint of hope Percy heard in his voice?

"Yeah."

"She was a taker," Cedric says, shrugging as he moves closer. "You need a giver."

He's right; Percy hates to admit it, but it's true. Penelope had been a lovely person, but she had been so draining, and Percy had found himself struggling to stay afloat. The day she had decided to leave him had been strangely relieving.

"I'm not going through a breakup," the younger boy answers. "I… I'm not dating anyone either."

Percy takes a deep breath, ignoring the fluttering sensation in his stomach. There's no denying the hopeful tone in his voice, like he's praying Percy will take the hint. Percy wants to be the smooth one, the one who has suave, sophisticated remarks to offer, but he is too reserved. He cannot seize the moment.

Thankfully, as quiet as Cedric is, he is far bolder than Percy. The younger boy closes the distance between them, pressing a chaste kiss to Percy's lips. "Been wanting to do that for a long time," he chuckles.

"I'm glad you did."

And though Percy knows he should send Cedric to bed before anyone finds that he's allowed a student to stay out past curfew, the two of them walk together, laughing and chatting. It's such a natural thing, and Percy can't remember feeling so free with anyone else.

As his shift comes to an end, they stand the window, watching the stars shimmering in the night sky.

"I hope can sleep now," Percy says, heat spreading from his cheeks to his ears, painfully aware of how ridiculous he sounds.

But Cedric doesn't criticize his awkwardness. He just leans in, kisses Percy's cheek, and whispers goodnight.

Cedric is right. Percy needs a giver.


	86. Blissful Moment (GideonDorcas)

It truly is a perfect day. Gideon stretches out near the lake, enjoying his ice cream cone—a sweet, cold treat that goes so perfectly with this hot summer day at his father's cabin—and watching the ducks bob along in the water.

"I think you have an addiction," Dorcas says, laughing softly. "How much ice cream have you eaten today?"

Gideon tears his gaze away from the lake. Dorcas looks gorgeous in her hot-pink dress, and her smile is enough to make him melt. "What a silly question," he says, shrugging. "The answer, though, is that I haven't eaten nearly enough."

Dorcas snorts, dark blue eyes rolling. "Have you always been this much of an idiot?" she teases.

He considers for a moment. Of course, it's a rhetorical question, but he is too much of a smartarse to leave it as such. "Yep." He offers his girlfriend a grin. "I was always this much of an idiot. But you already knew that."

"You aren't an idiot."

Gideon shrugs, returning his attention to his ice cream, absently lapping at the creamy treat. "Doesn't matter. Mum always says it doesn't matter who you are or what you look like, so long as someone loves you," he reasons, watching as Fabian's pet cat perches precariously on the edge of the pier, batting at the passing ducks. "Since you love me, I think I'm good."

"Gideon! Are you going to just sit there all day?" Fabian calls, sticking his head out the cabin door. "We need you too! Marlene is bullying me again."

"Am not!"

"Be in a bit." Gideon snorts and shakes his head. To Dorcas, he says, "Crazy, isn't it? There's a war going on. We're part of it, but here we are, pretending to live ordinarily lives."

"Do you regret it?" she asks, sitting beside him at last, her slender arms wrapping around him.

He considers. Maybe he should. There's the smallest hint of guilt that sours his insides, and it's hard to ignore. He can't help feeling like he doesn't deserve any downtime, like he should be with the Order, plotting and planning and finding some way to help.

At the same time, though, he knows he is still young. Even if the world is falling apart, he is still allowed to enjoy his youth. Tomorrow isn't promised, and he wants to live while be can.

"No," he answers at last, his fingers moving gently along her spine. "We deserve a peaceful day."

Dorcas snuggles closer. In the back of his mind, Gideon wonders how many days like this his future holds. How many times will he be able to hold onto Dorcas and just breathe?

"I love you," he whispers, and there's a sort of sadness in his voice; he wonders if she can hear it.

"I love you too."

A comfortable silence hangs between them. Gideon continues to bask in the summer heat, still enjoying his ice cream and the company of a good woman. The world is going to hell, but he will enjoy this blissful moment while he can.

* * *

 _Sewing 101: ice cream cone, regret, hot pink_

 _Back to School: question_

 _Feline, Bombay: Write about someone enjoying the heat._

 _Supernatural, nymph: set on or near water_

 _Insane House Challenge: loves the heat_

 _365: present tense_

 _Auction: duck_

 _Piñata: Order member_

 _Character Appreciation: cat_

 _Book Club, Tony: addiction, cabin, "I was always this much of an idiot."_

 _Showtime, Prima Donna: "We need you too."_

 _Sophie's Shelf: GideonDorcas_

 _Arcade, Cream the Rabbit and Cheese: soft, laughing, Marlene McKinnon_

 _Bex's Basement, The Witches: "it doesn't matter who you are or what you look like, so long as someone loves you."_

 _Word Count: 512_


	87. Kind Eyes at Night (FrankAlice)

_Auction: Frank Longbottom_

 _Sewing 101: St. Mungo's, crying, no names_

 _Feline, Burmese: Write about someone who doesn't like to be alone_

 _365: socks_

 _Insane House Challenge: clock_

 _Disney, Mowgli: Write about someone who struggles with change_

 _Book Club, Brian: strict, denial, hurt_

 _Amber's Attic: "I bet if we dusted her heart for fingerprints, we'd only find yours."-Rudy Francisco_

 _Lyric Alley: First you get close, then you get worried_

 _Word Count: 608_

* * *

They've been separated again. She doesn't know why the Healers are so strict. When she is near him, she is almost better again—not that she _knows_ what better is, but she knows that he is safe and warm, and she doesn't want to be away from him.

Alone, she is trapped in her own head. She sees the three figures over her; she remembers the way they had hurt her, the way she had screamed for her son—she has a son, though she cannot remember his name, but she remembers the round-faced boy who visits.

She can't take it anymore. The memories are too much, and the tears won't stop coming. Trembling, she pulls socks onto her cold feet and climbs out of bed. Their denial doesn't make sense, and it hurts so much. Why does she have to be alone? Why do they want to change things? She is better with him, and if they won't let her have him, she will take matters into her own hands. It isn't fair. She wants him.

The hospital is quiet, but she knows it isn't empty. Even if her mind is gone, she still knows these things. She remembers the Healers coming in and out throughout the night, offering her potions to help her sleep. It's only a matter of time before they come tonight. She doesn't have long.

Her eyes flicker toward the clock in the distance. The bronze numbers are little more than nonsense to her. She thinks that she might have once understood them because they look like something out of a different life, something she _should_ understand but doesn't quite.

Just like the man.

She knows his face. She knows that they are close, that he is her comfort. It's like she should know him, and he is a familiar face.

He had been there when she had gotten hurt. They had hurt him too.

But she doesn't know his name, only that his face is the only clear thing in this strange, blurry world.

And they want to keep her away from him. They're worried, and she's hurting, and she just needs him.

He's still awake when she enters his room. His kind eyes find hers, and he smiles.

Neither speak. She wonders if his mind is as broken as hers, if he has trouble with words like she does. Her thoughts make sense sometimes, even if they're blurry and strange, but she doesn't know how to speak them.

It doesn't matter. They sit together on his bed, hand in hand.

She thinks she must have loved once; maybe she still does. She doesn't look at anyone else the way she looks at him. He has a special place in her heart, a place that no one else can touch.

She doesn't remember falling asleep, but a Healer awakens her, frowning.

"I've told you, dear," the Healer says, shaking her head, "you need to stay in your room at night."

She looks back at him, lips quivering. Why can't she stay with him? He feels safe and comfortable, like home. She just wants to stay in his arms.

But she knows she cannot. At the end of the day, the Healer can make her cooperate. Fighting and resisting will do her no good.

Swallowing dryly, she nods and lets the Healer lead her out.

"I know you don't like change, dear. But it's for the best, you know. It will help the healing process."

She doesn't understand, but that's okay because she isn't really listening. Her mind drifts back to him and his kind eyes and warm arms. She just wants to go home.


	88. Saying Sorry (Drarry)

_Sewing 101: gift fic for Arty_

 _Slash September: Draco_

 _Auction: Draco_

 _Debate: apologize_

 _Back to School: desk_

 _365: "I want pancakes. Get to it."_

 _Buttons: biscuit tin_

 _Lyric Alley: You made a now, never get mad._

 _Word Count: 352_

* * *

Draco scowls as he watches Harry. His boyfriend sits at his desk, looking over paperwork without even sparing Draco a glance. He hates being ignored, but he is too proud to beg for Harry's attention.

"Just going to be a prat and ignore me?" Draco asks, folding his arms over his chest. "Look at you, pretending to work."

"I am working," Harry says sharply, reaching into the biscuit tin and plucking a ginger newt out. "It would go a lot better if you would stop sulking."

"Malfoys do _not_ sulk!"

Harry doesn't respond. He keeps his emerald eyes fixed upon the files sent from the Ministry. Draco wonders if it's actually some pressing Auror issue, or if he's just determined.

As much as he hates it, he understands the silence. The beginning of their relationship had been one fight after another. It doesn't matter that they love one another; they are always bound to clash. Harry had been the better man. When things had been completely miserable between them, and Draco had been on the verge of walking out, Harry had made a promise. No matter how mad he gets, he won't act on his anger. There's been no yelling, no fighting, and it's been so peaceful.

Until now.

Draco knows he ought to apologize. Even if it had been an innocent mistake, he's still in the wrong. But actually admitting that to Harry is unbearable.

"I won't say sorry," Draco says when the silence becomes maddening.

"Uh huh," Harry says absently, shuffling the papers around. "I'm sure you won't."

"Piss off," Draco snaps.

Harry still doesn't look up. Draco's pride is wounded, but he _can't_ apologize.

"What do I have to do?" Draco asks. "Because I'm not saying it."

Finally, Harry looks at him. He purses his lips, considering as he taps his quill against the desk. "I want pancakes," he decides. "Get to it."

"I can't bloody cook! Do you want the house to burn down?"

His boyfriend smirks. "Curry takeaway then. Your treat."

Draco exhales deeply. "Fine."

"In that case, all we be forgiven when you bring me dinner."


	89. For the Best (JamesRegulus)

_Slash September: James_

 _Prompt of the Day: Jamulus_

 _Disney: "As long as he remains with you, he's in danger!"_

 _Book Club, Marty: brothers, "I'd really appreciate it if you wouldn't swear.", handsome_

 _Amber's Attic: "You left and the world didn't crumble. I owe the universe a dollar."- Rudy Francisco_

 _Count Your Buttons: magazine_

 _Auction: Jamulus_

 _Word Count: 586_

* * *

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at?"

Regulus doesn't bother to look up from his magazine at his brother's voice. "I'd really appreciate it if you wouldn't swear," he says as he turns the page.

Sirius snatches the magazine from his hands and sits across from him. "You really think it's a good idea to be with James?" he asks. "No offense—"

"Somehow, I doubt that."

"—but you're hardly on the right path."

Regulus snorts. His brother never cares about his life choices. If Regulus hadn't spent the past four months sneaking out with James, Sirius still wouldn't give a damn.

"As long as he remains with you, he's in danger! Merlin, just because you've fucked your own life up, doesn't mean you have to ruin everyone else's lives!"

Regulus looks up at that, grey eyes narrowing and thin lips twisting into a scowl. A million insults stick in the back of his throat, but he swallows them down. It is not worth the fight.

Instead, he climbs to his feet, still scowling, and snatches the magazine back before turning on his heel and stalking off.

…

Regulus is a selfish bastard. He's well aware of this. Why else would he cling so desperately to a boy who is far too good for him? Does it really matter that James says he loves him?

Regulus can't help but doubt it. How can love with someone like him be anything but corrupted, foul, and horrid?

But he cannot let go. He is so scared of giving in to his thoughts and being alone.

Maybe it would be for the best, but Regulus doesn't care.

He only wants James.

…

It still amazes him how handsome James is. Regulus wants nothing more than to just hold him and never let go.

But there's something in the air that tells him it won't be that easy. When James kisses him, he feels so distant, like he isn't quite there.

"Something wrong?" Regulus doesn't want to know the truth; he is scared to death of the answer.

James doesn't answer right away. He holds Regulus' hand, his thumb brushing over Regulus' knuckles. His grey eyes shift toward the sky. "Do you ever wonder why we're doing this?"

"What do you mean?"

His heart sinks. All he can do is move a little closer, hoping against hope that this is not goodbye. Of course it is. Sirius has undoubtedly gotten to James.

"We shouldn't work," James murmurs, his free hand pushing through his dark, unruly hair. "We're… Merlin, Reg, we're the most improbable couple ever."

"But we _do_ work," Regulus points out, his voice small.

"Yeah. We did."

 _Did._ Past tense. It's strange how one syllable seems cut so deep.

"It's for the best," James says, and it sounds like he's trying to convince himself just as much as he's trying to convince Regulus. "We weren't made to last."

Regulus almost smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Whatever you say."

He doesn't know if he hates James or loves him for kissing one last time before turning his back on him.

…

Somehow, the world still turns. Regulus is on edge, waiting for the world to fall apart.

It doesn't. Each day, he still hurts, but he finds a way to function despite the pain.

When he sees James walking down the corridor with the Evans girl, it feels like a knife has been wedged into his chest.

But he carries on, and the world still turns.


	90. Proud (ErniePadma)

_Sophie's Shelf: ErniePadma_

 _Arcade, Blaze the Cat: cat, lavender, Padma_

 _Lowdown: "Meat and sarcasm. That's all I've got. Pretty much my whole identity."_

 _Insane House Challenge: coat_

 _365: running late_

 _Feline, Havana Brown: Padma_

 _Word Count: 312_

* * *

"Can you relax?" Ernie asks as Padma nearly trips over their pet cat.

Padma glares at him, smoothing her hands over her lavender blouse. Try as she might, it still seems too creased, too wrinkled. Not good. They're running late like it is, and she can't afford another setback.

"Seriously," her boyfriend adds. "You're making me nervous."

"Can you be a little more helpful?" she snaps.

"Meat and sarcasm," Ernie answers. "That's all I've got. Pretty much my whole identity. Have I ever been helpful?"

Padma rolls her eyes, but she can't help but smile. Her boyfriend is hopeless, but she loves him more than anything. "Tell me I'm not going to lose my mind, at least."

Ernie moves closer and wraps his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You're going to be fine," he tells her. "You've got the interview, and you're going to kill it."

"See? You're more than just sarcasm."

"And meat," Ernie offers. "Don't forget meat."

Padma kisses him gently. "And meat," she agrees before grabbing her coat and slipping it on. "I'd better go before I completely miss it."

…

She's completely giddy when she arrives back at their house. Ernie sits in the living room with his feet up, their tabby cat curled up in his lap and sleeping.

"Well?" Ernie sits up a little straighter, grinning.

"You are looking at the newest Healer at St. Mungo's," she says.

He jumps up, sending the cat fleeing with a disgruntled hiss. "I knew you would get it," he says proudly, pulling her into a hug.

Padma melts into his touch, unable to keep from grinning. Ernie has been there for her from the beginning, always helping her study and keeping her motivated. She can never tell him how that's helped her.

"I'm proud of you," he says.

And that means the world to her.


	91. Risk Taker (JohnAmelia)

_Feline, Abyssinian: Write about a daredevil_

 _Sewing 101: Ministry, flying, no one under 18_

 _Word Count: 381_

Just once, Amelia would like to have a nice, quiet day. In retrospect, perhaps being the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement might have been the wrong career for that dream. Still, she can't help but hope.

Unfortunately, Dawlish still works in her department, and he never fails to find a way to disrupt the peace. Today's antics, it seems, involve balancing precariously on a broomstick, dangerously close to falling. "One date, Milly?" he calls, lips twisting into a grin.

The others in the department seem to have mixed feelings. Some regard his daring behavior with amusement; Amelia is certain there's a handful within the department who take bets on what sort of crazy or dangerous stunt he's going to come up with next. Others look as exasperated as Amelia feels. Dawlish is too much of a daredevil, always taking needless risks just for a few laughs.

"Come on, Milly," he says, moving away from the center. The broomstick looks like it might tip over. "You know you want to."

"My office, Dawlish," Amelia says. "Now."

The humor fades from his expression. Dawlish lowers his broomstick, feet firmly on the ground. Almost reluctantly, he follows Amelia into her office. "Come on. It's just a laugh," he assures her.

"A laugh that could lead to a workplace injury," Amelia counters, her tone quiet and deadly. "It would have been absolutely hilarious when the Minister had to launch a full investigation into our department to see what sort of bloody circus I'm running."

"I just wanted you to notice me."

There's a sort of innocence in his tone that makes her grudgingly melt. Amelia sighs heavily, leaning against her desk. "I _do_ notice you," she says. "Sort of hard not to when you pull all these ridiculous stunts, John."

"You called me John…"

Her lips quirk. "Shut up," she chuckles. "You don't have to do stupid things for me to notice you. Hell, you might have gotten that date a long time ago if you had just been yourself."

"Are you agreeing to a date?"

Amelia rolls her eyes and shakes her head. He really is hopeless. For such an amazing Auror, John has a horribly one-track mind. "Yes."

"And I'm forgiven for the broomstick incident?"

"Desk duty for a week."


	92. Try It (DeanPiers)

_Assignment 4, History of Magic, task 1: Write about someone's first time experiencing Bertie Bott's Beans_

 _Disney: "You told me a lie, [Name]. You said I could trust you."/"It's like you said; you can't trust anyone."_

 _Slash September: Piers_

 _Word Count: 522_

* * *

"Just try it," Dean insists. "Trust me; they're delicious."

He watches in amusement as Piers picks up the Bertie Bott's Bean and examines it. "You know these aren't just a magical treat, right?" he asks, dark eyes rolling. "You can buy these things almost anywhere."

"But these are special."

His boyfriend doesn't look so convinced. Piers' brows raise. "Special?" He rolls the bean between his fingers, leaning in to sniff it cautiously. "Those Canary Cremes were special. This is just… ordinary."

Dean groans. Over the past month, ever since he'd finally worked up the nerve to tell Piers that he's a wizard, Dean has tried to introduce his boyfriend to the wizarding world. So far, it's gone mostly well.

"Go on," Dean urges.

It's such a silly thing, and he knows it. Still, he can't help but grow impatient. He still remembers his first time trying Bertie Bott's. Seamus had nearly fallen out of his seat as Dean had coughed and groaned upon crushing the black pepper-flavored bean between his teeth.

"So… What's this one, then?" Piers asks curiously, presenting the bean in the center of his palm.

Dean leans in, studying the colors and pattern. The bean is a nice peach color with flecks of pink and brown mixed in. "Probably something sweet and fruity?" he guesses. "Fruit punch? I don't know if I've had this one before."

"Fat lot of help you are," Piers groans.

And yet, Piers opens his mouth and pops the small sweet into his mouth. Dean watches eagerly as Piers chews it. Within seconds, Piers' face grows pale, and he looks like he might be sick. He spits the partially chewed bean on the ground before kicking the spit-slick thing away.

"It tasted like puke!"

"Ah…"

"Ah? What the hell do you mean?" Piers demands, wiping his mouth. "I can still taste it, Dean!"

Dean clears his throat, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He already knows Piers won't like the answer, but there's no point in delaying it. As his boyfriend desperately scrubs his shirt over his tongue, Dean explains, "I know they have some terrible flavors. I just didn't know there was a vomit flavor."

As expected, Piers doesn't look happy. "You knew I might end up with a disgusting flavor, and you still let me try it?"

"Yep."

"You told me a lie, Dean! You said I could trust you!"

Dean offers him an apologetic smile. "It's like you said; you can't trust anyone," he points out.

Piers narrows his eyes, but there's something softer beneath his annoyance. Despite everything, his lips still tug into a smile. "I'm supposed to be able to trust _you_ ," he counters.

Dean shrugs before tucking the bag of Bertie Bott's Beans back into his coat pocket. He reaches into his other pocket and pulls out a Chocolate Frog. "What about this?"

Piers accepts it and examines it, his smile instantly replaced by an uncertain frown. "Dean, I swear to God, if these are real frogs—"

"You _just_ talked about trusting me!" Dean says, holding his hand over his heart in mock offense. "I'm getting mixed signals here."


	93. Confession Time (Perciver)

_Speed Drabble: "Why won't you love me?", 500 words in 1.5 hours_

 _Back to School: Oliver Wood_

 _Slash September: Percy_

 _365: Trio_

 _Character Appreciation: Trio_

 _Dark Lady's Lair: parchment_

 _Word Count: 513_

* * *

"Why won't you love me?"

Percy looks up from his parchment, quill still hovering over his half-finished Charms essay. His brows raise in confusion. "Drunk, Oliver?" he teases.

He doesn't know what's brought this on. Oliver looks almost vulnerable, and Percy doesn't understand at all. He's so used to seeing his roommate acting like the epitome of confidence. Instead, his old friend frowns, brown eyes wide as he studies Percy.

"I don't get it, Perce," he huffs, sitting on Percy's bed. "Do you know how much I have tried?"

"You're taking the mickey."

Isn't that the obvious answer? Oliver is so out of his league. Even if they're friends, that's it. Oliver is still the bright athlete, and Percy is… Percy. Boys like Oliver don't go for boys like Percy. They're meant to have beautiful girlfriends who become beautiful wives, and go on to live perfect, happy lives.

But Oliver's expression is so serious that Percy can't seem to find the punchline. It's all a big joke. Perhaps Fred and George are waiting outside the door, and they're going burst through and laugh at him.

That isn't Oliver's style, though. He's always had more tact, and cruelty is so far beneath him.

"Why would I joke about this?" Oliver asks curiously, dark brows raising.

"Because I'm…"

Percy trails off, cheeks burning with a blush. He hates how insecure he is. Growing up, he had always been so jealous of Bill and Charlie; they know how to walk like they own the the place, like they're important. Percy, on the other hand, has always been quieter and infinitely less certain.

Oliver moves closer, pushing Percy's parchment aside, leaving ink smears on the tidy sheets. Percy knows he should probably care about the mess, but his heart is racing and fluttering, and his stomach feels like it's twisting itself into knots.

"You really don't see how amazing you are?" Oliver asks, his tone so genuinely surprised that Percy's cheeks grow hotter, and the blush spreads to his ears. "I can't believe that."

"I'm really not amazing."

Oliver snorts. "You are."

But Percy doesn't believe it. Sure, he's clever. Maybe there are good things about him, but it doesn't matter. He is still little more than ordinary. Whatever Oliver sees in him, Percy doubts he will never see it himself.

"I've loved you from the first day," Oliver says. "Maybe not in a romantic way. But… Your heart is so perfect, Perce. You are kind and so bloody good, and…" He shakes his head, chuckling. "Look me. Waxing poetic about how I feel about you, and I know you don't feel the same way."

Percy swallows dryly. He wishes his lungs would function properly, but it feels like the oxygen in the room has suddenly lost all the oxygen in it.

"I never said I didn't," he manages, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just not as brave as you. I couldn't tell you…"

"Six years, I've assumed you wouldn't want me," Oliver laughs. "But… You do?"

Percy leans in, kissing him quickly. "I do."


	94. Lemonade and Healing (BlaiseDaphne)

_For Sam, as a ticket prize for fun fair. BlaiseDaphne, happy ending drabble_

 _Speed Drabble: lemonade_

 _Word Count: 413_

* * *

He finds her in the hospital after the war. It feels so strange having to sneak through the castle, but Blaise knows it's necessary. Despite his neutrality, he is still a Slytherin, still the enemy. The few people who had noticed him at all had looked at him with clear distrust.

But he doesn't care. Daphne is hurt, and that's all that matters.

"I brought your favorite," he says, holding up the goblet of lemonade.

Daphne's expression brightens, and she sits up, wincing slightly. "Knew I liked you for a reason," she teases, accepting the goblet. She sips, and her lips twist into a bright smile. "Perfect."

Silence hangs between them. Looking at her is the greatest relief, even if her dark hair is wild and tangled and coated with a layer of dust and debris, even if skin is a patchwork of cuts and bruises. She is alive.

But there's no denying the shame that sours his stomach. He should have been by her side. Maybe if he had been, he could have kept her safe.

"You've got that look," Daphne mutters, sipping at the lemonade again. "What's going on in that clever little head of yours."

"I shouldn't have run," he says, voice tight. "I should have stayed and fought."

"For a cause you didn't believe in?" Daphne asks dryly, shaking her head. "I nearly died for it, and that's okay because I wanted the Death Eaters to fall more than anything. But you didn't, Blaise." She sighs, rubbing her temples. "I can't hate you for not becoming a martyr for something you didn't care about."

"I did care. I hated what the Carrows did. I just…" He pauses, scowling. Why does he have to sound so pathetic? He's a Zabini; he is meant to be calm, collected, and certain. "No one else is going to look at the way you do. They'll think I'm a coward."

"And they can piss off," she says with a shrug. "Who else brings me lemonade while I'm on my deathbed?"

"You're not dying. Shut up."

Her bright eyes flash with amusement, and she smirks. "Make me."

And just like that, they can put the war out of their minds and have a few moments of hope and normalcy. Blaise takes the goblet and sets it aside before pressing a kiss to her lips.

They've got a long way to go before they can heal and move past this, but Blaise is ready to begin.


	95. Hope For Us (RonLavender)

_Speed Drabble: RonLavender_

 _Word Count: 531_

* * *

"Ron?"

He looks up, startled by the sudden voice. Lavender stands before him, scarred but smiling. "Hey, Lavender," he says, trying for a smile but failing to make his lips work.

He doesn't want to be around anyone, least of all his ex-girlfriend. His mind is still racing, still trying to process that the war is finally over. They have lost so much, but it's over at last, and everything is going to be okay.

Except it's not. Harry is dead, and so is Hermione. Ron is the only one left. His world is falling apart. The two people he loved more than his own life are gone, and there's no way to get them back.

He doesn't know how long he's been standing atop the Astronomy Tower, nor does he know what his intentions even are. Maybe there's some part of him that wants to jump and be free from this world, to join Harry and Hermione on the other side. Maybe he just wants to get away. All he knows is he leans against the railing, and there's a faint temptation in his heart.

"You're healing up nicely," he says because he doesn't know what else to say.

He isn't good with talking about feelings. Try as he might, the words always stick in his throat and sound more than a little ridiculous. So he talks. He says whatever comes to mind, and he hopes it's enough to fill the silence, enough to keep Lavender from asking too many questions and trying to get close. Ron can't let anyone in. It would feel too much like a betrayal.

She appears at his side, scarred hands resting upon the railing. "I'm sorry you're hurting."

He feels something burn inside him, but he forces himself to stay calm. She's hurting just as much as he is. Their burdens are different, but they are burdens nonetheless.

"I'm sorry Greyback attacked you," he says, gaze drifting to the ground below where people hurry in and out of Hogwarts, desperate to rebuild the castle.

Lavender moves closer, and Ron swallows dryly, ignoring the way he trembles slightly. "We're going to be okay, you know," she whispers, slipping her hand into his. "I know it doesn't feel like it, but I have to believe."

 _We're_. It's such a simple word, just a pronoun. There's nothing profound about it, nothing special. And yet it brings him a strange sense of comfort.

 _We're._ Maybe they're both broken and lost, but they aren't alone. There's still hope out there for them.

 _We're._ It's almost like a promise.

He doesn't even know how it happens. When he looks back at Lavender, their lips meet. It isn't the wild, rushed sort of kiss they had shared countless times in his sixth year. This kiss is powerful. There's an unspoken desire that seems to linger on both of their lips.

"We're going to be okay," she says again as she pulls away, fingers ghosting down his cheek.

And it still doesn't feel like it. There are so many unknowns, and the world still feels as though it is falling apart. But it doesn't matter. Maybe there's hope for them after all.


	96. Learning (ColinGinny)

_Speed Drabble: Wingardium Leviosa_

 _Word Count: 613_

* * *

It's easy for Colin to grow frustrated. He's fourteen, and this bloody spell from first year still seems to give him more trouble than it should. " _Wingardium Leviosa,_ " he says, and he makes sure the swish and flick of his wrist is just right.

Still, the stick at his feet remains in place without budging. Colin tries not to get discouraged, but it's so bloody hard.

"Need a hand?"

He looks up to see Ginny smiling at him. Colin's cheeks heat with warmth despite the chill on the air. Somehow, he manages to nod. "It's stupid," he admits with a sigh, "but I can't perform the Levitation Charm to save my life."

Ginny doesn't make fun of him for it. That's one thing he admires most about her. No matter how hopeless someone may seem, Ginny shows them nothing but kindness—until they give her a reason not to, at least.

With a smile, she adjusts her coat before sitting beside him. "You have to relax as you focus," she tells him. "Just let go. There is nothing in this world but you and that stick."

Colin laughs, but her face is completely serious. He coughs awkwardly, adjusting the collar of his moss green shirt and wondering if Ginny notices how awkward he is. He hopes not. Girls like Ginny aren't supposed to care about boys like him, and he's so worried she'll realize that.

Somehow, he manages to relax. His bright eyes focus on the stick. Nothing else matters; nothing else exists. Taking a deep breath, Colin raises his wand again, swishing and flicking it through the air. " _Wingardium Leviosa!_ "

By some miracle, the stick slowly begins to float in the air. Colin's thin lips tug into a proud smile. Maybe it's a skill he should have managed ages ago, but be doesn't care. He's a bit of a late bloomer, but he's managed it, and that's all that matters.

"See?" Ginny grins at him, nudging him gently with her shoulder. "I knew you could do it."

"Why are you so nice to me?" he asks as he guides the stick back to the ground.

"Do I really have to have a reason?"

Colin raises his brows expectantly. So many words bounce around his head, but they all sound so pathetic. If he says them, Ginny might realize how lame he is and focus her attention elsewhere.

He shrugs. "I dunno. I mean… You're nice to a lot of people, so I know it's not like I'm special or anything."

"You are."

"I am what?" Colin asks, confused.

"Special, you dork," she laughs. "You're amazing, and I… Well, I fancy you a bit."

Colin stares at her, waiting for the punchline. It's ridiculous. How could someone like Ginny fancy _him_? She's so fiery and bold, and he is nothing but timid and safe. Girls like her are supposed to fall in love with heroes.

She opens her mouth to speak but quickly turns away with a sneeze. "Sorry," she mutters as she turns back to him, offering him an apologetic smile. "Anyway, if you don't fancy me, I completely—"

"No! I've… Well, I've always noticed you, Gin," he admits.

She leans in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "I should go. I need to study for Potions."

"I can help," he offers. "It's the least I could do."

Ginny offers him a dazzling grin as she nods. "I'll nick some grapes from the kitchen. It'll be a date."

Before he can even process it, she's gone. Colin stares after her, trying to wrap his head around everything. It doesn't make sense, but he goes with it. Life is unexpected, and that's okay.


	97. Distraction (RabastanEvan)

_Slash September: Rabastan_

 _Back to School: Exam_

 _Word Count: 327_

* * *

"I don't know why you're so nervous," Evan says, a teasing hint in his voice. "You act like you aren't the top in our year."

Rabastan scowls. He wishes he could be as confident in his intelligence as Evan is, but it seems impossible. All he can think about is his bloody exam that he's undoubtedly failed. Worse, his marks in Charms will go down, and any chance of finding a good career after Hogwarts is out the window.

"Come on, Bast," Evan says with a smirk as he circles Rabastan. He stops behind him, gently massaging Rabastan's shoulders. "You can't go through life being so bloody tense all the time."

Rabastan shrugs. "It works well enough for me."

He doesn't know how to tell his boyfriend the truth. How can he open up when he knows what everyone expects from him? It doesn't matter how brilliant he is or whether he's failed this exam. Try as he might, there's no real future for him. He will follow in his brother's footsteps, take the Dark Mark, and fight for a cause he only partially believes in. The only blessing is that Evan is taking the same path. He won't have to face this alone.

"Lighten up," Evan says, his words almost a purr. "I know what will get your mind off things."

Rabastan sighs deeply. It isn't fair that Evan can do this to him. He likes to pretend that he's above it all, that nothing can shake him, but Evan Rosier knows exactly how to get under his skin without doing a damn thing.

"When I'm done with you," Evan murmurs, his lips brushing over Rabastan's ear, "you'll forget there was an exam today at all."

Rabastan is weak. He melts so easily at those pretty words.

Maybe he'll never get his head right, and there will always be so much stress and anxiety. For now, however, he has Evan, and he will welcome the distraction.


	98. Great Things (OliverLee)

_Slash September: Lee_

 _Back to School: Trophy room_

 _Leaf Pile: cleaning_

 _Word Count: 363_

* * *

"Do you think I'll ever have a place here?" Oliver asks.

Lee glances up from the trophy he's been polishing by hand. "Really? We're serving detention, and you're worried about your future Quidditch accomplishments?" he asks with a roll of his eyes.

Really, he isn't surprised. His boyfriend tends to have one thing on his mind, and that's Quidditch. As much as Lee loves Oliver, the older boy is a bit obsessive over the sport. By now, Lee has learned to just sit back and get comfortable whenever Oliver starts talking about Quidditch.

"It's a valid question," Oliver mutters, shrugging as he pulls the rag out of the small bucket of polish. "I mean… I put my heart and soul into it, you know? Am I recognized for it? This will be my first year as the captain, and I don't even know if I'm ready."

Lee stares at him, completely at a loss for words. It's strange to know that Oliver can be so vulnerable. As long as Lee has known him, Oliver has always seemed to radiate confidence. Is it possible that Oliver Wood, damn near a god on a broomstick, is just as insecure as anyone else?

"I think you'll be amazing," Lee says, making a show of scrubbing the medal in his hand as Filch passes by. "Then again, you're always amazing."

Oliver snorts, but there's a hint of a smile on his lips. "You're my boyfriend," he says, shaking his head. "You're supposed to tell me great things, even if they aren't true."

"Look at me," Lee says, gesturing at his face for emphasis. "Does this look like the face of a liar?"

The older boy shrugs. "I suppose not," he sighs.

"Damn right it's not," Lee agrees with a nod. "So, when I tell you that you're gonna do amazing things, you better believe it. Years to come, some poor soul will be thrilled to be here, polishing a trophy with Falmouth's greatest Keeper's name on it."

"I'd rather play for Puddles," Oliver says with a shrug. "But point taken."

"Good. Now, let's hurry up and get out of here. Polishing trophies isn't exactly a romantic date."


	99. Gifts (Deamus)

_Speed Drabble: 3 in the morning_

 _Slash September: Seamus_

 _Back to School: spending a holiday at Hogwarts_

 _Word Count: 446_

* * *

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Seamus groans when Dean wakes him.

He supposes he shouldn't complain. As much as he loves sleep, he loves his boyfriend more. Still, being woken up without warning is more than a little annoying.

"Three in the morning," Dean answers with a smug smirk.

Of course he knows. Seamus shouldn't be surprised. Dean never does anything just for the hell of it. Everything he does seems to be so calculated.

"Which means we have time together before the others wake," Dean adds, gesturing around the dormitory. "Merry Christmas."

"Christmas already?"

He doesn't know how he managed to not notice the holiday's arrival. Maybe it's being at Hogwarts when he's usually at home with his family. A smile tugs at his lips as he wraps his arms around Dean. "Our first holiday together," he murmurs.

His boyfriend kisses his cheek before pulling away with a soft chuckle. "You're so sappy, Shay," he teases. "Such a softie."

"Oi! I'll have you know I am _not_ soft!" Seamus insists.

Dean snorts, shaking his head. "Whatever you say, you great big teddy bear."

Seamus rolls his eyes. It's true enough. At least, it's true where Dean is concerned. There's something about the other boy that makes it so easy for Seamus to relax and feel safe. He doesn't have to be on edge, doesn't have to worry.

"I didn't have time to wrap it," Dean says. "Well… I did, but I'm a nightmare when it comes to wrapping presents. But… Here."

Seamus accepts the small box. Curious, he opens it and finds a Muggle chemistry set. Chuckling, he shakes his head. He had expressed interest in the subject when Dean had compared Seamus' knack for explosions to a mad scientist. "It's perfect. I… Well, I didn't wrap yours either, so I reckon we're even."

He sets the chemistry set aside before reaching under the bed. The West Ham kit is still in a bag, and it takes Dean only seconds to get to it.

"How did you find this?" Dean asks, holding the kit against his chest, his expression positively radiant.

"I have my ways."

Seamus won't mention the frustration behind converting Galleons to Muggle money, or the long debate with his mother over whether or not Liverpool was the same thing as West Ham. All that matters is that he came through in the end, and that Dean is happy.

"Can I go back to sleep now?" Seamus asks. "It _is_ three in the morning, you know."

"Only if I can join you."

With that, Seamus shifts over slightly, smiling as Dean snuggles into him. Slowly, he drifts off to sleep once again.


	100. Thunder (DaphnePansy)

_Gris-Gris: thunder_

 _Boyfriend Checklist: first kiss_

 _Flowers, Pansy: Pansy Parkinson_

 _Elemental: bliss_

 _Book Club, Dr. Sayer: safe, understand, being unable to sleep_

 _Showtime, Trust Me: "How many kisses do you need?"_

 _Amber's Attic, Saw: game_

 _Count Your Buttons: PansyDaphne_

 _Lyric Alley: Whatever makes you happy._

 _Word Count: 520_

* * *

Pansy feels like a child, but she can't help it. It doesn't matter how old she is, how mature she's supposed to be; the sound of thunder still terrifies her. She tries to tell herself she's safe in the dormitory, that the thunder can't get her. Still, fear makes her heart race as she hears another rumble.

"Figured you would be up," Daphne says, climbing into Pansy's bed. "You always did hate the thunder."

Pansy swallows dryly, painfully aware of how close Daphne is now. They've always done this. For years, the girls have danced around their feelings. Both understand, but neither act. They just pretend for a while longer.

"And you always hated sleeping," Pansy says with a soft laugh.

"I happen to love sleeping, actually," Daphne counters. "I just struggle with it. Insomnia and all that."

Pansy nods, unsure what to say. Daphne moves closer, and it makes her heart race so painfully. Why can't they just be normal? Why does everything have to feel like a game? She sees other people fall in love so easily, so naturally. Why can't they be like that?

She hears another rumble and jumps slightly. Daphne is quick. Within seconds, her slender arms wrap around Pansy's body, holding her close. Though it doesn't erase the fear completely, it makes Pansy relax a bit.

"How many kisses do you need?" Daphne asks.

Pansy pulls away, brows raised in confusion. For several moments, all she can do is stare at Daphne, trying to decide if she's heard her correctly. "What?"

With a laugh, Daphne rests her hand on Pansy's thigh. "You heard me," she says. "Don't act like we haven't been playing this game since third year. I'm tired of playing. I want you."

Heart fluttering, Pansy stammers unintelligibly for a moment, her words failing her. This is what she's wanted for so long, but she is suddenly too nervous to act on.

"I…"

Daphne leans in, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to Pansy's lips. It's first kiss they've ever shared. Though it's far more innocent than Pansy would have expected, it's nothing short of pure bliss. Daphne has kissed her, and everything feels like it's going to be okay.

The thunder in the distance no longer matters. Knowing that a storm is steadily raging on beyond the castle walls cannot shake her. Daphne is in her bed, and Pansy finally knows what it feels like to be kissed by someone she cares about.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," Daphne admits, pushing her dark hair behind her ears. "I'm glad I finally had the chance."

"Me too," Pansy says quietly. "You aren't going back to your bed, are you?"

"I can stay here with you, if you want me to."

Pansy doesn't have to pause and think. Having Daphne nearby is a nice comfort, and it makes her feel okay. "I definitely want you to."

Daphne kisses her again, more passionately this time. "Whatever makes you happy."

"You," Pansy replies. "You make me happy."

The storm no longer matters. She has Daphne, and she knows that nothing can touch them.


End file.
